Bright as Night
by Listelia
Summary: Everything went black. Albus didn't know anymore where he was - who he was. And in this darkness, where only throbbed the bite in his chest, a green and golden eye was looking at him. (His fourth year at Hogwarts is easy, happy, no troubles. Albus Potter never asked to be special. But, well, he IS. And things won't ever be the same...)
1. Fly high, fall big

Albus gave a piece of meat to the white owl perched on his shoulder. She greedily gobbled her reward and rolled her round eyes with a satisfied hooting, before returning to one of the high beams of the aviary.

The boy watched her fly with a smile, then sat on the large arched windows. He lifted one knee, let his other leg dangling outside, slipped the tip of his wand in the corner of the envelope and tore the flap.

His head leaning against the old ancestral stones, he began to read, savoring the tangy breeze that rippled through his thick black hair.

_"Dear Al,_

_Since your mum is not yet back from the ministry of magic, I'll quickly send this letter before she takes up all the space with her recommendations! Our owl refused to carry the mail, last time, since there were too many pages ... No, just kidding. I just thought you and I should have a man to man talk, for once._

_I will contact the Swanson, try to get organize for this summer. I think it will be good for you to spend the holidays at your friend's and find out a little more about the muggle world. Your grandfather will be very jealous! But I'm sure you two will have more to share after this experience!_

_Will Wendy spend her summer there as well? I'm not going to give you a speech about bees like your mother did to James when he first began to be interested in a girl, but I will expect you to be reasonable."_

Albus blushed and looked up from the letter with an embarrassed chuckle.

- "It's not like I'm _in love_ with her!" he said aloud. "That speech was already ridiculous at the time, and James was three years younger than me now – Dad, _please_. Spare me."

The owls stared at him with big eyes. One of them turned its head backwards on its neck and hooted, knitting its gray eyebrows.

- "Sorry, guys ... " Albus sighed. "I wasn't talking to you."

Distant loud voices caught his attention. He leaned over to look outside. Far below, in the school yard, some girls were having a fight.

- "Ouch, ouch, ouch ..." muttered the teenager. "I hope Lily's not part of this mess ..."

He lost interest in the fight from which he could not even grabbed a few snippets of words, put the letter on his lap and looked at the immense sight the highest tower of Hogwarts was giving him.

The flanks of the hill were dressed in soft green and the lake shimmered softly in the spring light. The air smelled good. Even the Forbidden Forest seemed less scary with some fruit trees in blossom scattered in its dark cloak like pastel colored pompoms.

_"Hogwarts must be beautiful in this season. Quidditch workouts will be more comfortable than this winter, although I have heard you perfectly mastered the _cozy-arse_ spell your uncle - that rascal! - kept a secret for years."_

Albus chuckled.

- "Yes, and I'm not the only one who likes the spell! Professor Wood said it was the best thing he ever learnt in years!"

_"Mum has already sent your birthday present, but I had another idea for you. Fifteen is not just any age, and I wanted to take you somewhere. Just you and me. Would you be okay to skip the next trip to Hogsmeade, next weekend? I think we won't have trouble obtaining permission to ..."_

Albus paused again. Still holding the letter, he thoughtfully rubbed his thumb against his lips. He was quite proud of the manly shape his jaw was beginning to show but didn't realize his fine features, when he was deep in thought, gave him the poet-lost-on-the-moon look he was trying to get rid of.

- "Just where do you want to take me, Dad? What do you have in mind?"

For James' sixteenth birthday, in July last year, his parents had let him invite half of the school. They had set up tents in the garden and made the _Trolls of Rotherham_ come. It had taken up three whole days to clean up the house and its surroundings after that. Albus was still shivering at the reminder. James was popular and loved having a crowd of people around him. He had been delighted, but his brother was relieved that no one expected him to ask for the same kind of party.

A day with his father during the school term, a trip to a mysterious place that would surely be full of memories, a moment just for the two of them – man to man, heart to heart ... yes, that program seemed much more attractive to Albus.

And he was almost sure he knew what gift his mother had chosen for him.

_This birthday was going to be perfect._

He settled more comfortably against the stone, lifted his knees and was about to continue reading when the door of the aviary creaked on the floor below. Light steps climbed the stairs four at once, and a head was soon to appear.

- "Hey, Al '! I knew you'd be here!" said the blond boy with round glasses when he saw his best friend.

He brushed his pants that were coated with cobwebs, took off his glasses and wiped them on the edge of his gray sweater lined with red and yellow stripes. He had blue eyes and an odd quiff on the head. He was just a little smaller than Albus, wore a braided watch bracelet and the laces of his shoes had been replaced by cans lids. His worn leather school bag, customized with pins, hung against his hip, full of books and scrolls. He held under his arm his cauldron smeared with a fuchsia substance and, in addition to the multiple ink stains on his fingers, he also had a nice splash on the cheek.

Albus looked at him from top to toes, than smiled, a little worried.

- "Terrence Swanson. What on the Moon have you done again? What's in there ? Is it _alive_?"

- "It's nothing", assured the other boy with a hand gesture. "A silly experiment. I got a little ahead of this term lessons, that's all."

Albus fished out of the bag a 7th year potions book.

- "Hmm?"

- "What?" retorted the other boy, looking all innocent.

He pushed Albus and sat unceremoniously on the windowsill beside him. He bent outwards and patronizingly tsk'ed twice.

- "Oh, girls ..." he sighed. "Just to let you know, your sister has just made Gryffindor loose 50 points. She swung a bat-bogey hex onto Alison Corner. _Where_ did she learn that anyway? Professor Curtis was impressed. She gave us ten points for the _quaaality of maaagic_. "

Albus laughed at this perfect imitation of their DADA professor's Queen's accent, then lifted up his eyes helplessly.

- "During last break, my dad blurted out it was the spell my mother was best performing when she was James' age", he replied. "Lily spent all her time training… she didn't leave a single place intact in the house..."

He sighed.

- "What did Alison Corner say?"

Terrence shrugged.

- "Oh, I don't know. Stuff important to 2nd year's girls. Anyway, it was beautiful magic - a little scary, but interesting."

He chuckled, sat cross-legged, placing the bag between them.

- "I keep thinking you were adopted", he added mischievously. "Between your brother that can't spend a day without showing off and your sister's awful personality, I don't understand how your parents managed to have a child so eager not to attract trouble such as you, mate. I don't know what you're doing in Gryffindor, frankly. You should be in Hufflepuff."

Albus gave him a slap on the forehead with his letter.

- "And I've always wondered what a grimoire geek like you is doing in Gryffindor! You should be in Ravenclaw."

They giggled. It was an old joke, and not a week could pass without one of the two launching it again.

- "Well, at least we know who is in Gryffindor without mistake", finally said Terrence who had caught a strand of his blond hair and absently broke the forks. "Wendy, for sure."

- "The sorting hat wasn't yet on her head it was already screaming "Gryffindor, Gryffindor" like if it had been stung by a bee!"

The word reminded Albus of his father's words and his cheeks flushed. Terrence arched an eyebrow and leaned forward, scanning him.

- "What was that? This _thought_, right now ... come on, tell."

Albus squirmed, embarrassed, dodging his best friend's pokes.

- "Gimme a break, Ter."

The other boy puffed out his cheeks, not fooled for two pennies. He was about to say something when a cavalcade rang through the wooden stairs.

- "Al! Are you there? Seriously, couldn't ... you ... ... stay put ... in the co ... common room", complained the girl who appeared at the top of the stairs, panting.

She stopped, clutched her helmet onto the ramp and bent over, putting her hands on her Quidditch knee protections to catch her breath.

A long brown ponytail swept on her shoulder. She wore the red and orange uniform of the Gryffindor team and had a band-aid across her nose. Tiny carbuncles shined on her ears and at the corner of her pyramid-shaped left eyebrow. She had gray almond eyes and full lips with the tendency of chewing on the lower one. Her bangs were plated on top of her head by a flat clip.

Wendy Philips was a bit smaller than the two boys and in fourth year with them.

- "Don't… you know ... we are ... supposed ... to be ... in workouts ... _now_", she hiccupped in a voice full of reproach. "Professor Wood just spent the last twenty minutes giving us a speech on the virtues of being on time and it's a matter of seconds before he gets on to _sonoris_ and makes sure the whole school knows you're late!"

- "ALBUS POTTER COME DOWN FROM THE MOON IMMEDIATELY AND GET YOUR BOTTOM TO THE QUIDDITCH PITCH RIGHT NOW!"

- "What was I saying…" sighed the girl.

Albus hunched his shoulders and got up hurriedly, stuffing the letter and the envelope in his pockets. He rushed down the stairs, followed closely by the two others.

- "Why didn't you remind me at breakfast?" he reproached, racing down the steps at full speed.

- "I _did_! And I sent Terrence to get you half an hour ago!" replied the Quidditch player, thrusting into the neck of her sweater the chin protection which twitched against her face.

- "Sorrrrrrry" chuckled the teenager behind them.

- "POTTER IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SPEND THE REST OF THE WEEK IN THE DUNGEONS MAKE SURE TO BE HERE BEFORE THIRTY SECONDS!"

- "Troubles, big troubles", the girl muttered in between two breaths.

Albus increased the pace, took a tight turn and almost ran over two first years that let out frightened squawks. He threw them an apology over his shoulder, without slowing down.

They ran across the Big Hall, slowing down just enough to not bail remarks when they passed by a teacher, hurried through the immense corridors, got breathlessly to the other side of the lawns, tumbled into the locker room just the time to shout an "_Accio_ Broom" rough but effective, and finally rushed to the Quidditch pitch, red, disheveled and out of breath.

- "POTTER YOUR HABIT OF BEING LATE WILL BE YOUR DEATH SOme day, ah there you are. I was starting to grow a little impatient", growled the professor, removing the wand which amplified his voice. "Where was he? No, don't answer, Philips. On your brooms, lads, let's get started. We've lost enough time. No, Potter, no need for you to change clothes."

The other team members obeyed, shaking their heads. Albus was giving around glances of excuse as he got on his broom, but none of the players seemed to really blame him for being late, with the exception of his brother who gave him a flick on the nape when he passed near him.

- "Let's begin with a three against four", shouted Professor Oliver Wood from the gallery. "Philips, you team up with Bones and Shacklebolt, Potter - James – you be the keeper for today. No, no complaints. The rest of you cover Potter – the _other_ Potter, King, are you daft? No Snitch for that round. I want you to work on group chase, you showed me the lamest game I've ever seen in my life, last time."

- "Yet we won!"

- "Sandeszki, had I whistle you, I'd knew it", the professor grumbled, throwing back the sleeves of his robes that bothered him. He raised a hand, the ball in the other one. "Attention ..."

The quaffle went straight up to the sky, then rolled on itself and plunged to the ground, followed almost immediately by the two Bludgers that had sprung from the trunk with smoke geysers.

All brooms charged forward, with the exception of James who remained hovering in front of the large rings.

Jeremy Shacklebolt, who was in his 7th year and the team's captain, grabbed the ball and threw it to Eleanor Bones, whistling like if he was doing a card game. The two chasers were at home in their usual role. This was not the case for Herveus Sandeszki who loved to protect the goals and kept glancing at James who was yawning widely.

Wendy sat back on her broom and blew her bat to the oncoming bludger, sending it in full speed in the direction of Albus.

- "Ha!" she let go with a predatory smile, sweat dripping down her face.

Albus veered gracefully and effortlessly dodged the bludger.

- "Sorry, Wendy!" he cried happily, waving his hand.

Bruce King struck the other bludger just in time before it hit his teammate.

- "Focus, Al! If you have no more teeth, you won't be able to try my father's tournedos this summer!" Terrence yelled, his hands around his mouth, from the stands. His books were spread around him on the benches and he wrote frenetically on a scroll in between two glances to the field.

- "SANDESZKI GET YOUR FINGERS OUT OF YOUR NOSE AND GET MOVING!"

Albus jumped when Professor Wood's voice thundered again and dived in pursuit of the quaffle. He was not used to the big ball, but he was aware of the importance of the points scored by the Chasers - including his brother - while he hunt the Snitch during the games.

And he really did not want James to have anything to say, considering his brother had not yet overcome the fact his cadet had become the seeker the year before, when the 7th year girl who previously held that position had graduate.

James always spit absolute nonsense about him when they came back home – Albus' late starts in the morning, the immoderate love all the animals and magical creatures without exception vowed him (_his dorm was often invaded by furry roommates and even the amorphous flobberworms themselves wallowed, drooling on his hands, when he gave them lettuce. The owls left him alone the rest of the time, but they never dispatched the mail without stopping to pinch his ear affectionately_), the habit the teachers had to always drew a line between Potter-the-trouble-maker and Potter-the-model-student. Fortunately, their parents didn't believe a word he said ...

As long as he could stay away from his brother, Albus felt perfectly fine. He loved James but feared him just as much. As for Lily ... well, she was his little sister. You did not hang out with your 2nd year sister when you were fourteen, eleven months and twenty-three days old.

Life at Hogwarts was simple, easy, happy. There were no soulless professor - except for Mr. Binns who was a ghost, but this wasn't a point in this context - no personal vendetta or unjust persecution and it had been a long time since the Slytherins had lost their reputation of being the minions of the Death Eaters whom _History of Magic_ class had once made mention of.

They were not taught much about the war. Not at least of what had been horrible, senseless, cruel, irreversible. They were fed the improvements made to the government and forced to learn by heart the names of the heroes, but they did not know much about Voldemort himself or what had led Harry Potter to go alone against him.

"_Life and Combat of Harry Potter_" was in 7th year program only and Albus feared and wanted both to get there quickly. He did not particularly like the "oooh" that followed his surname when the professors were calling "Potter" in the Big Hall.

James, obviously, _loved_ it.

None of the three children of the hero had obtained details from their father when they had discovered how famous he was during their first year at school.

Albus thought it was pretty normal. _Actually, rather cool_.

And what he loved most of all was the fact that his two best friends were Muggle-born. Neither Wendy nor Terrence had heard of Harry Potter before their coming at Hogwarts and they were discovering with his son the deeds of his father's past. These two were not curious - or more accurately, they had decided _not to be curious_ about this very subject, preferring to remain alongside Albus and progress at his pace.

They were sensitive, loyal, funny and passionate.

_Just perfect._

Albus hid a smile as he flew back up, the quaffle under his arm. He loved Quidditch, he loved flying and his heart was beating faster when Wendy Philips was involved in the game. She was strong, she was mad and she was - beautiful.

_A fact he had only discovered upon returning from Christmas holidays: a mystery._

He whirled, threw the ball in the air and sent it into the goals with an agile move of his broom brush.

- "Yeaaaaah!" Terrence yelled in the stands in which he was the only audience - with the exception of two cats, three crows and half a dozen spiders that were faithful fans - hopping on the square and projecting black ink all around him.

James let out a muffled curse - he had missed the ball – and focused on the game. In the gallery, the professor raised up his eyebrows.

- "Thanks Potter, it's now or never", he muttered before seeing something else that made his blood pressure shot up. "KING FOR THE LOVE OF MUD THIS BAT IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE USED AS BACKRUBBERS!"

Wendy giggled, her legs streched on each side of her broom, her own bat on her shoulder.

Albus dived to the sand that covered the ground, pulled up his broom at the last moment and ascended sharply, tacking between the players of the opposing team to make them lose their sense of direction. He was one with his broom, fast, flexible, sliding with the wind like a comet in water. Blood pulsated against his temples, but his smile was still growing. He loved to fly. Although he was rather good in most classes - being best friend with a student as gifted as Terrence was requiring from you to learn your lessons if you didn't want to have the impression of being slow as a snail - he never had enough confidence.

_Except when flying._

His heart throttled.

He heard - far, far away - the professor's voice and knew he would soon need to resume his place in the game, but for a few seconds, he let himself be carried away by the speed and the clear picture of Wendy Philips watching him with her mouth O-shaped.

The image blurred.

For a second, his vision darkened. Surprised - it was the first time since he was riding a broom that it was fast enough to cut his breath - he slowed down.

The Quidditch pitch reappeared, fuzzy and dull. Then faded away again.

_Something was moving in the corner of his left eye. Something big, black, like a piece of cloth._

The circles, the wooden turrets with their colorful banners ...

_It was ... a kind of ..._

The sun dazzled him then veiled.

_A wing. Some sort of a wing._

He braked and stopped his broom.

The voice of Professor Wood made his way up to his mind. He was shouting, but Albus did not understand what he was saying.

He blinked to get rid of the funny feeling, suddenly realized he had trouble breathing.

And then the pain shot out of a sudden.

His hand tightened on his chest. He gasped, folded in half.

His ears began to buzz and he did not know where he was anymore.

Everything went black.

_And in this darkness, where only throbbed the bite in his chest, a green eye split with a golden diamond was looking at him._

The last thing he heard was Terrence's scream.

* * *

><p><strong><em>To be continued ...<em>**


	2. This is NOT a tattoo

Terrence frowned.

_Something was wrong._

He could have recognize anywhere the way Albus was flying – he had studied it from a critical and very professional point of view and was the reason for the aeronautical impressive figures that made the reputation of the second Potter (since he was so quiet and shy, people tended to think Albus was the sissy version of his father and his brother. Terrence had remedied to this by combining the innate gift of his friend and the freestyle aviation manual of his father who was a stuntman).

_Something was definitely off._

Albus was not holding himself properly and the broom was slightly jerking, as if the control was no longer assured.

- "Potter, there's no snitch in play, no need to fly at that speed", called the teacher, amused.

Albus must had heard him, as he slowed down, but as if he rode a broken machine: the twitching broom zigzagged.

- "Potter? You okay?"

Apparently, Mr. Wood had also picked up on the weird way the boy was flying.

Puzzled, the other players stood still to look up at the seeker - quite happy to take a break. Wendy cast a glance in the direction of Terrence and shivered seeing his worried face turned to their friend.

- "POTTER WATCH OUT!"

She jumped.

Up there, Albus had clenched a hand on his chest and was wincing as if in pain. He swayed, then suddenly fell off his broom.

- "AL!"

James - who until then seemed to think his brother drew a little too much attention to himself - suddenly dropped the quaffle and rushed towards the falling silhouette, immediately followed by Jeremy Shacklebolt. The boys caught up Albus, one under the arms, the other by the legs, and slowly carried him to the ground. They laid him on the sand and stood aside to let their teacher through.

- "Potter, you okay? What happened? Answer!"

- "Al? What's that?" James asked, kneeling next to his brother and helping him to sit painfully.

The teenager's lips were white, as if all the blood had drained from his face, and his fingers dug into his sweater.

- "It ... it hurts ..." he gasped.

- "Lemme see. Was that a bludger? You might have a bruised rib" said the professor, somewhat relieved. He lifted the boy's shirt, felt the clammy skin. "No ... weird. Looks like you have not broken anything. Tell me. No one has a heart problem in your family, isn't it?"

James shook his head, while Albus, wincing, tried to calm his breathing.

Terrence slipped between the Quidditch players that looked at their teammate worriedly.

-" I can take him to the infirmary", he said.

The professor nodded. He hoisted the injured boy to his feet, looked at him up and down.

- "Can you walk over there, Potter?"

Sweat dripped into the green eyes of Albus and along his nose. His black hair was a mess and he visibly struggled not to cry in front of everyone. He nodded in silence.

- "All right, then" Professor Wood finally said. "You guys get back the Bludgers and do a series of push-ups. Potter, do you want to go with your brother?"

James hesitated, then shook his head.

- "Then, on your broom. Philips, you too."

His friend's arm around his shoulders, a hand firmly hooked on Albus' belt, Terrence met the eyes of Wendy and cracked a smile to cheer her up.

- "You take our stuff back to the Great Hall, okay?" he said. "Don't touch what's inside the cauldron, unless you want to say goodbye to your nails."

The girl nodded.

- "Thanks", said Terrence.

Then he turned to his friend and took a deep breath.

- "Let's go, mate."

He pushed aside the cats that were rubbing against their legs, purring, and whispered words of encouragement tirelessly until they reached the arcades. There, he removed the arm from his shoulders and let Albus sit between two stone windows. He crouched before him and gave him a flick on the knee.

- "You okay? Still alive? Take a break, we're almost there."

The other boy lifted his head a little, still clutching onto his sweater.

- "S-sorry."

Students were passing by, chatting, books and scrolls in their arms. A group of 3rd year girls, clucking like chickens, cast glances at them before scampering with whispers. A toad escaped from the grip of a first-year kid and jumped heavily to them, his beady yellow eyes staring in worship at Albus.

- "Yeah, right", Terrence sighed, rolling his eyes. He gave back the toad to his owner then came back to his friend. "Be sorry my neck hurts from carrying you this _far_. I know you didn't want to look lame, but frankly ... a stretcher or a levitation spell would have made things easier, though."

- "_Wingardium Leviosa_", Albus chuckled, reminded of the old story his uncle had told him dozens of times.

He felt a little better, but laughing was not a good idea and he nearly choked when the pain suddenly intensified.

- "Stop with your private jokes", growled Terrence wincing as if the pain was his own. "Do you want me to get you something to drink? Or shall we keep going? We're almost there ..."

Albus bit his lips until they bled. He managed to nod and his friend helped him up. They limped to the infirmary and crashed on an empty bed in the big room, exhausted.

- "What's the matter, children?" asked Hannah Abbot, the school nurse, coming toward them from the back of the room where she had administered a calming potion to a seventh year girl obviously hysterical - probably because of the term exams coming soon.

She stopped to check the oozing bandage of a fifth-year boy, on whose head were growing stalks of leeks, then walked toward them.

She was wearing a blond low bun, and her pale skin had a tendency to blush at the top of her chubby cheeks. She was wearing a long gray-blue dress that was stretched on her opulent chest and which brushed on the floor tiles.

- "Al's not feeling too good", said Terrence, getting off the mattress and removing his glasses to wipe them.

The nurse put a hand on Albus' back.

- "Do you have nausea? What did you have for breakfast ? I heard there was something wrong with this morning's pudding…"

She frowned as she took in Albus' hand clutching his chest, the sweat shining on his face and his labored breathing.

- "Oh. What exactly happened to him?"

- "We were at the Quidditch pitch and suddenly ..."

- "Oh, I see", growled the woman.

She looked around for the isolation curtain. Terrence pulled it, but remained near the bed

- "Let's see, take off your sweater. There ... thank you. Sorry, my hands are cold."

She shoved the red and yellow tie on the nightstand, between the pitcher and the lamp, and looked for a bruise, a bump under the skin that would explain what was going on. But there was nothing. She ruffled the hair of the exhausted boy.

- "I'll give you something for the pain, okay?" she offered in an encouraging voice. "I'll check on you again later, when you feel a bit better."

Terrence did not like that at all. He followed her to the locked closet where she kept the ingredients for potions and poultices, while Albus put back on his clothes.

- "What's wrong with him?" he asked quietly.

- "Something that has nothing to do with Quidditch..." Hannah Abbot replied grimly, almost for herself, before realizing who she was talking to. "What are _you_ still doing her? How comes you're not studying in the Great Hall with everybody else?"

Terrence took a leap aside to avoid the smack and went back to Albus' bed. He slipped between the curtains and sighed when he saw his friend curled up on the stripped mattress. His shirt was not even buttoned. The gray sweater with Gryffindor's colors had fallen on the floor. Terrence picked it up and dusted it.

- "Al. At least get under the blanket, we're not in summer, mate ... You look like you're posing for the cover of Finnigan's magazines."

He swallowed and crouched beside the bed, his chin resting on his folded arms on the mattress, to be at the patient's height.

- "Al-bus-Se-ve-rus-Pot-ter", he mouthed like a robot. "Hello, over there on the Moon, can you hear me? You'll feel better in three minutes, I promise. Lovely Bobbie may not be a mermaid, but she knows her thing."

He had already made numerous trips to the infirmary: the experiments and tests he attempted from the manuals he pinched from the upper grades were not always turning as planned ...

- "Thanks for the compliment, Swanson, you ape", the nurse gritted behind him, armed with a stove that smoked thick. "Now get out of here so I can take care of your friend."

Terrence walked around the bed and placed himself on the other side to monitor the operations.

Hannah Abbot sighed. She rolled her eyes and gave up chasing him from the infirmary.

Terrence Swanson was one of her darlings - _he was so smart, always asked lots of questions and knew to be very gallant _- and the friendship between the two boys was one of the inmovable things of Hogwarts.

- "Here, help him prop up against the pillow. There, that's better."

She smiled at the patient who tried to withstand the waves of pain without complaining, an eye closed and the other half open, his face tense.

- "Albus, it'll be a bit hot at first, but you should feel relief afterwards."

She pulled up the boy's shirt, chin-signed to Terrence who grabbed the hand whose nails were driven into the skin and who took it away from the pain site.

- "Be brave, mate ..."

The nurse took a handful of the viscous black patch and applied it to the teenager's chest.

Albus made a movement to push her away, at first, then his body relaxed.

- "Thank you ..." he murmured at last.

He was breathing more calmly, but his face was drawn with fatigue as if he had run a marathon.

- "Well done, Bobbie!" Terrence exclaimed happily.

The nurse wiped her hands on her apron, tsk-ing half angry, half amused.

- "Listen to this child who doesn't know his place", she muttered.

She leaned over Albus and covered the poultice with a large square of cotton.

- "Stay a moment like this, sleep a little, and we'll see how you feel later. You okay with that, dear?"

The boy nodded.

- "Okay."

The woman smiled again.

- "Good."

Then she turned to Terrence and her eyebrows narrowed dangerously.

- "As for you, get out, you nipper! I bet everyone's having dinner. You'll make your house lose scores!"

The boy dodged the slap effortlessly and ran towards the door.

- "I'll be back, Al!" he shouted.

- "SHUT UP WHEN IN THE INFIRMARY!" roared the nurse behind him before the two doors closed with a bang.

- "She thinks she owns her dungeon", Terrence muttered before heading to the Great Hall.

He slipped behind Bert Hammersmith, the school janitor, and sneaked to his table.

- "How's Al?" Wendy asked before he had time to sit down next to her.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team bent over the dishes.

- "Does he feel better?"

- "What was it, then?"

- "He got hit by a bludger, isn't it?"

- "Is it Appendicitis?"

Terrence endured the storm of questions without batting eyelids, piled half a dozen chicken drumsticks on his plate before helping himself to a huge dipper of mushroom soup, and took the time to swallow a spoonful of burning mashed potatoes before answering.

- "He'ss be''er bu' Bo'pp'ie doe'n't know wha' hap'e' - ha' tha' ho'!"

- "Not a word was clear", Wendy said, pinching his nose to throw a glass of water in his mouth and make him swallow faster.

- "If he's no more panicked than this, in any case, it means Al's not dead!" James said.

The others laughed and Terrence took the opportunity to sprinkle soup on the chicken drumstick he had quickly pushed in his mouth.

His eyes met Wendy's disapproving look and he smiled, his chin drooling with sauce, his mouth full. She hesitated, then smiled back.

_Al is fine, don't worry._

_OK. Thank you for staying with him._

After dinner, Terrence, who had retrieved his school bag, discreetly put back the potions book in Jeremy Shacklebolt's bag before going back to the infirmary with Wendy. James and Lily caught up with them on the way.

Hannah Abbot frowned as they entered.

- "Five minutes, no more", she warned before pulling the curtain. "And I don't want to hear a sound."

They gathered around the bed on tiptoe. Albus was asleep, one hand on his stomach and the other over the edge of the bed. He was breathing better. With his messy black hair on the pillow and his mouth open, he looked like a quiet child.

- "Pff", James said, with a relieved smile, despite himself.

- "He really looks like Dad", Lily said.

_True_, thought Hannah Abbot.

Wendy had no opinion on this issue, she was busy thinking of a way to grab onto the hand that was hanging on the edge of the mattress – but without anyone seeing her. Terrence noticed it and walked around the bed to strategically place between the brothers and the girl.

- "He only looks like him from the outside", James corrected after a while, in a weird voice.

Albus coughed in his sleep. He moved one foot, his hand went to his face then he opened his eyes.

- "Ah ..."

- "Hi, bro", James said. "Back to the Living?"

Albus nodded, still half asleep.

- "Well, that's good. I'll get out of here, then. Lily, if you write to the parents that Al passed out during a Quidditch workout, you're dead meat, got it? I don't want Mum to rush here."

He underlined his threat with a significant gesture of the thumb under his chin. His sister raised her eyes and brushed back her red hair with disdain.

- "All right, all right, I'm not four anymore ..."

James snorted sarcastically and left the room.

- "Well, that's it, that's enough for today", the nurse intervened. "I'll look at what happened with the poultice, Albus. The others, out."

- "See you Tomorrow, Al ..." Wendy whispered awkwardly.

Albus smiled and held out his fist. She clouted against it gently, then went out after a last look.

- "Oh My Gosh Isn't This Subtle", Lily sighed.

- "Get off, Miss "I have no sense at all", Terrence said, pushing her towards the door. "Leave them in peace."

Lily stuck her heels in between two tiles and sank against him, her eyelashes fluttering.

- "Whaaat, what have I doooone ?"

Terrence blew out a deep breath and massaged the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He grabbed her by the shoulders and smirked.

- "Lily. I know your mother married her brother's best friend, but you know what? It will never happen between us. _Never_. And you know why?"

He leapt towards the nurse and affectionately put his arm around the waist of the chubby woman.

- "Because my whole heart belongs to Hannah " Bobbie" Abbot, the best among female creatures in this world", he proclaimed solemnly, crossing a hand on his chest.

- "It's disgusting", protested Lily.

- "_Out, now_", the nurse said quietly, grabbing the two of them by the neck and throwing them outside.

She closed the door when they were down the corridor and returned to Albus. She pulled the cover and removed the gauze square.

The patch was dry and now greyish.

- "How do you feel?" the woman asked, breaking pieces of clay.

The teenager smiled.

- "Much better. Can I go with the others? I mean, I feel fine, now..."

Mrs Abbot shook her head, while collecting the bits in her apron.

- "Uh-uh. First, I want to see how it went. And I prefer you sleep here for the night, just in case."

She put some liquid from a vial on a cloth and cleaned the boy's chest. Albus gave her a pleading pout.

- "Please ... I'll make sure Terrence apologizes to you, but ..."

- "Hey, I apologize if I want", interrupted his best friend popping in next to the nurse. "So how ..."

His mouth open, he suddenly stopped talking. The woman was also silent. She frowned.

- "What?" Albus asked, a little worried, trying to see what they were staring at.

Mrs Abbot looked up.

- "Albus. What is _this_, exactly?

The boy exchanged a panicked look with his best friend, hoping for some help. He had no idea what she was talking about.

- "Whaaah", finally said Terrence. "I didn't know you got such a tattoo…It's huge - but beautiful, actually. Maybe I should get one too."

The nurse gave him a slap on the arm.

- "Shut up, Swanson. Potter, this mark has nothing to do with ink. This is _not_ a tattoo. It's magic, and, even more, very complicated magic, very old. Where did you get that scar?"

- "_Scar_?" Terrence repeated, stunned, staring at the swollen mark that looked like a snow flower on the chest of the teenager.

Albus shook his head.

- "I don't know ..." he said in a shaky voice. "I don't know, I've never seen it before ..."

Somehow, he felt like he was lying – but he had no idea why.

* * *

><p><strong><em>To be continued<em>**


	3. Something's off

Three steps and a half.

This was about how far he could get before the magical stairs would decide to trap him.

Since his arrival at Hogwarts, Terrence Swanson wondered if someone had thrown some kind of a recognition spell on those damn stairs. It seemed he was the only student in the whole school to whom this happened: _yes_, sometimes, the stairs were moving to connect with another floor, but _why_ was it that no one else but him got stuck in the middle of nowhere?

He pulled the leather strap hanging from his belt, on which he had hung half a dozen watches – Muggle and witches indifferently – and sighed.

Forty past ten and some irrelevant seconds (_some watches tended to go at their own pace_), nobody was going to pass by for a while.

_Good. Luckily, for once. I need to think._

He pushed back the line of watches in his pocket and fumbled in his class bag for the headsets he had bewitched so they would play the tracks of his old MP3 (_Merlin, how magic was practical: he hated carrying tons of batteries each time he went back to school_).

Eventually he found them, dusted them to get rid of the Valerian powder whose bottle had opened and sprinkled all over the bag. He put them on, drew his wand from the back pocket of his uniform pants and pronounced the incantation nonchalantly.

- "_Orchestra auribus_."

The only problem with this spell was the sound which never kept to the headphones. It had a tendency to twirl around your ears, which was completely useless when you wanted to listen to music while the rest of the dormitory was sleeping - or studying.

Terrence shrugged. It was not a problem. He had become used to go to one of the empty rooms of the 3rd floor when he needed to concentrate.

In the end, he was rarely _alone_ up there.

Most of the time, Albus was perched on the window-sill with a book and read quietly while his best friend immersed his genius brain in music, mumbling incoherently and scratching on scrolls as if his quill itched with chicken pox.

Often, Wendy joined them there and painted the various places of the castle, sitting cross-legged on a pile of threadbare cushions. Occasionally, a house elf appeared in a light "pop" and ate his snack made of slices of zucchini / hazelnut cream / aioli beside her, commenting on the picture in a tinny voice. It was an unusual phenomenon for these shy creatures with big ears, especially since they should have been the first to remind the students that using the room was not really allowed. The three friends had given up understanding after they had noticed their asking question turned the strange little people hysterical - or made them disappear for weeks.

Terrence suspected the house elves to be under the same mysterious attraction for Albus as all the other magical creatures.

_One._

Albus, who had never been sick in three and a half years, had suddenly fell off his broom because of a pain in the chest appeared _out of nowhere_.

_Two._

Albus, who was the last person in the school who would have meddled with dark magic or associate with hooligans, had a scar left by a curse _impossible to achieve_ even for a skilled wizard.

_Three reasons to suspect a trick. Three thread well tangled._

_Bobbie didn't look at ease ..._

_There's definitely something fishy..._

Terrence nibbled his lips. He stepped aside following with the reggae song, snapped his fingers. His hips and chin began to move in rhythm with the bass. He mumbled, humming softly, so immersed in his thoughts he did not notice that above him, Nearly-headless-Nick and Moaning Myrtle were in full groove, trying to mimic his dance moves.

The stairs did not move, still locked on nothingness. The song sounded disembodied under the high ceiling and the two ghosts waddled carefully, copying the way Terrence turned on himself and made his heels slide on the side.

On his way back from the Great Hall, Neville Longbottom stopped down the stairs and looked at the show in front of him. He pushed the folds of his robes and put his hands in the pockets of his corduroy pants. He did not know if he should laugh or apostrophize the oblivious dancing student. He shook his head and took a step forward.

The recalcitrant staircase recognized him immediately and set in motion to the left to connect with the second floor. Terrence, still deep in thought, did not notice, but the two ghosts pouted as they spotted the professor. They parted - Moaning Myrtle had been trying to force Nearly-headless-Nick to pass under her arm lock - and disappeared under the applause of a dozen women wearing only braids of flowers. The satyr who had sat down to watch the show stood up and went back to chase after the ladies who escaped in the following painting, cheeping.

- "Swanson. What are you doing here while your friends are all in their bedrooms or studying in the Great Hall?" Neville asked, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder when he was at his level.

Terrence came back to reality in a startle. He took off the headphones that went silent with a gurgle.

- "Oh, Professor. Sorry, I didn't hear you coming ..."

He smiled apologetically at the tall and skinny man who taught them Herbology. Despite his horsey face, bushy brown hair and light stuttering he was nevertheless one of the favorite professors. His kindness was notorious, his sense of justice recognized by all, and while some kids were making fun of his overflowing passion for the smallest bit of green, he undoubtedly remained the most consulted adult in Hogwarts. He always had time for a cup of tea, never tired of comforting those who were homesick and was of good advise when exams drove you crazy or when you had an argument with a friend.

- "What troubles you, lad?"

Terrence rubbed his nose. He hesitated, then stuffed the headphones in his bag and lifted blue eyes to the man who smiled kindly.

- "You know Albus' family, don't you? His mother passes on her greetings to you each year."

Neville Longbottom's eybrow furrowed.

- "Yes", he replied cautiously. "His parents are old friends. Why?"

The teenager pondered for awhile, as if he was not sure he wanted to share his thoughts.

- "Do ... do you know where does his scar come from, then? It appeared when we were treating him for his fall during Quidditch workouts. Al doesn't remember how he got it and Nurse Abbot seemed to find it important. Is it a curse? Is it a family tradition of some sort? I heard his father has a famous scar."

The brown eyes of the professor widened in surprise.

- "_What_ scar? Albus doesn't ..."

He paused and blushed violently, as if something had just crossed his mind.

- "These are questions far too personal", he said in a troubled voice he tried to make sound severe. "I don't think I need to answer."

Terrence had not missed the change on his face and did not insist.

_That makes it four._

Neville cleared his throat.

- "You should go to bed, Swanson. It's late."

- "Good night, Professor."

The man waited until the teenager has obediently climbed a few steps, then whirled around and ran down the stairs toward the infirmary. Terrence, standing on the second floor, watched him disappear around the corner of the ground floor and sighed.

_There really was something fishy._

He walked thoughtfully to his dorm, gave the password to the leprechaun who guarded the door, straddling on an old goat that chewed a tuft of grass with a supremely bored look, and tacked between the fifth-year guys practicing their spells in the common room decorated with scarlet tapestries. A pair of cushions had exploded and feathers were flying everywhere. Some girls were sitting by the fireplace trying to go over their lessons in this infernal din and there was a rat in great distress on the chandelier, blowing in spite of itself a huge ball of green chewing gum.

Terrence gave him a look of pity but merely climbed the spiral staircase to his room.

- "Holy Pogrebin, Swanson, _warn_ when it's you!" someone squealed indignantly when the door opened.

A paper swallow fluttered around the room and it smelled of skunk inside.

- "What, you thought it was a teacher?" retorted the blond boy with a smirk.

He launched his bag on the first four-poster bed on the right - _his_ - then threw himself face down on the left one.

Craig Finnigan and Samuel Flinch-Fletchley, who were lying side by side on the burgundy quilt, had just time to roll side to avoid being crushed. Flinch-Fletchley fell heavily on the carpet, while Finnigan scooped away the magazine.

- "Watch out for me poor Cassiopeia", he protested, rolling his eyes.

Terrence grabbed the magazine and flipped through it quickly.

- "I thought your favorite was Melisande."

Samuel, who had gotten up and had circled around the bed, came lean on him.

- "Not anymore since she had her nose redone", he said.

- "It's not her _nose_ that interests Craig", Terrence laughed.

Finnigan looked offended for about three seconds, then chuckled.

- "That ain't true. Come on, give it back, Swanson. If you wanna have a peek, it's twenty Knuts."

Terrence gave up the magazine and jumped from the bed.

- "No thank you, that's fine. And, mates, the house elves were briefed regarding the readings of the students. If they get their hands on your copy of _Blue Laces_, you can say goodbye to Melisande and her pretty legs ..."

- "Cassiopeia", Samuel corrected.

- "Don't worry, Malfoy put a charm on it", bragged Finnigan. "They'll believe it's the _Quibbler_."

Terrence exchanged a look with the blond boy who owned the fourth bed and who merely shrugged, then he smiled sarcastically.

- "And you really think a spell cast by a 4th year student will confuse centenary elves!"

- "Shut your trap, Swanson, you ain't funny", Flinch-Fletchley grumbled.

The two teens resettled on the messy bed and put the quilt on their heads like a tent. Two seconds later, their delighted giggles mingled with the sound of turned pages.

Terrence shook his head, amused.

- "Nutters..."

He went back to his bed, took off it his bag which he shoved into the nightstand and went in search of his pajamas. The top had landed on one of the posts of his bed and the bottom was rumpled under the fringes of the mattress, next to an empty box of crumpled _Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans _and Fabius Macmillan's broken Sneakoscope (Fabius was sleeping in the other room with Samuel Flinch-Fletchley and two other 4th-year boys). Terrence put on his pajamas then had to look for his toothbrush. It suddenly appeared before him, floating in the air.

He grabbed it and turned to Scorpius Malfoy who was putting back his wand on his nightstand.

- "Thanks."

- "It was with my stuff", pointed out the other boy. "I almost brushed _my_ teeth with it."

He looked disgusted.

- "Sorry", muttered Terrence, fishing his toothpaste in the inkwell set on Albus' nightstand.

Like the corner of the bedroom where lived Malfoy, Potter's area was pretty neat. There was a stack of books beside the bed and an open Quidditch magazine on the vermilion bedspread - next to Fabius Macmillan's sleeping cat - but it had nothing to do with the Finnigan's walls covered with posters (_Lingerie pages from the 'Witch Weekly' and specials from the Quidditch World Cup edition of the 'Daily Prophet'_) or the monumental mess which filled the room when you approached Terrence's bed. In between the cauldrons jagged by failed experiments, the flasks with questionable content, the objects without head or tail picked up everywhere and the textbooks tamped with thousands of sticking notes, it was a miracle the elves could still change the sheets once in a month.

- "What have you done with Potter?" Scorpius asked nonchalantly, turning a page of his book. "Lost him on the way? Your _remembrall_ doesn't work?"

Terrence smiled. He was far from being fooled.

- "Al's in the infirmary, he got hurt during Quidditch workouts. Nothing serious", he quickly added when the gray eyes of the other teen flashed fiercely.

Of all beings strangely fascinated by Albus, Scorpius Malfoy was the most surprising one. Probably because he was _human_ - though Terrence sometimes wondered if it was not mercury flowing in the veins of the boy with pale complexion. He did not have many friends - well, to be exact, none at all. He might have had some if he had been sorted into Slytherin where were mostly kids from rich families, but since he had been put in the Gryffindor house, the ties had been cut.

Terrence had not quite understood why, but most children from wizarding families were suspicious of the little sickly-looking blond boy. During their first year, Scorpius, who seemed to have set as a goal in life to be as invisible as possible, had suffered a lot of bullying, especially from James Potter's gang. Then, once during _Potions_, he had found himself paired with Albus and the magic had worked.

Just like the mad dog that guarded the back room of _Honeydukes_, the perverse Grindylow they had studied during their third year, like a lot of other creatures shivering with fear or anger, the boy with almost white blond hair had been mysteriously tamed by the big green eyes.

They had not become the best of friends – Scorpius was too much of a loner for that - but warmth enlivened Malefoy's dull voice when he was in the same room as Albus. Growing up, he had become a little more open, a little stronger too (_he gave himself a manner of disdain to hide his discomfort_) and their seniors had learn to leave him alone.

Terrence was almost sure Mr. Potter was in there for something. James would never have listened to his brother, but he respected his father - even remotely.

- "She's keeping him for the night?" Scorpius was surprised enough to put the book aside.

He frowned.

Terrence considered wise to change the subject of the conversation.

- "Are you done with the thirty centimeters we're supposed to write on Chapter 9 of _History of Magic_?"

Malfoy hesitated.

- "Yeah. Not you? I thought you had it done last Tuesday already."

- "I forgot about it", Terrence muttered sheepishly. "I don't wanna do that tonight, it'll take forever..."

He foraged in the mess around his bed.

- "I'll do it tomorrow – with a fresh mind."

The alarm clock he was looking for bounced off his head before falling to the floor with a pathetic _dreling_.

- "It was _also_ in my stuff", snorted Malfoy, his dark eyebrows annoyingly narrowed.

- "Sorry."

Terrence rolled the mechanism up to five then put the Muggle clock on his nightstand after pushing the pen tray and the spice boxes that contained his Herbology homework. Scorpius was putting on his pajamas. Samuel and Craig were still giggling stupidly in their makeshift tent. Terrence was considering setting on fire the fringes of the scarlet quilt to force them to go to bed, when the door of the room opened.

- "Albus?" said Malfoy popping his head out of his pajama top.

His well-controlled nonchalant voice and his usual annoyed pout did a good job to hide his concern, but his gray eyes anxiously scrutinized the teenager who had just entered.

Terrence turned around, surprised.

- "What are you doing here, mate?"

Albus smiled, sitting on his bed ("_dropping on it" would have been more accurate_, mentally noted his best friend.) He was holding in his arms the chewing-gum rat whose fur electrified when it saw the cat curled up on the scarlet quilt.

- "Pamela Crivey's cauldron exploded and half of the students studying in the Great Hall are now in the infirmary. They're covered with hairy pustules, it's gross."

He shuddered retrospectively and stifled a little cry of pain when the rat bit him, pedaling at full speed on his knees to run away from the cat who was waking up.

- "It's really contagious so Nurse Abbot sent me back."

He put the rat outside, addressed a nod to his best friend.

- "And that's good, 'cause I didn't want to spend the night down there."

Terrence put his hands on his hips, biting his lips, then his shoulders relaxed.

- "Well, 'means she thinks you're all okay, then."

Malfoy nodded vigorously from his bed.

Albus took off his uniform pants and put on his pajama bottoms. He got a t-shirt in his wardrobe after discovering that crushed reseda (from the mess under the next bed) had stained his pajamas top. He hesitated, one hand on the top button of his shirt, then climbed on the bed and closed the curtains.

Scorpius' eyes narrowed suspiciously and his dark eyebrows joined as a bar above his stormy eyes. Terrence made but one bound to the bed of his friend and slipped his head inside the curtains.

Albus sighed when he popped in and pulled down the t-shirt on the bandage across his chest.

- "Does it hurt?" Terrence asked softly.

- "No", said the other boy, a little annoyed. "I just wanted to avoid questions."

- "Is it still showing?"

Albus bit his lip and nodded after a moment, looking down.

- Did you remember something?" Terrence asked, before Samuel jumped on his back, making him lose his balance. The curtains teared out from the posts and fell, crumpling to the floor.

- "Oy! What are two whispering? Did Potter finally got himself a gal? Do you have a tip for the test in _Charms_?"

The blond teenager freed himself from Flinch-Fletchley, who was stocky but a head shorter than him, and threw him in the trunk in front of Finnigan's bed.

- "No and let go, Sam! Go sleep in your digs."

- "You broke it, git", Albus added, bending down to pick up his curtains.

Scorpius didn't miss the wince of pain he couldn't suppress in the movement and scowled even more.

- "Fight, fight, fight", was chanting Finnigan, excited like a flea, dancing around his bed with a Scottish accented neigh.

- "Shut up, Craig", hissed Malfoy. "Some people wanna sleep, here."

The boy with cropped hair threw a glance around him and stopped right away. The freckles on his cheeks swelled briefly, and the second after, he was pushing his friend out of the room – and throwing Fabius Macmillan's cat in the stairs.

- "Yeah, get out, Flinch-Fletchley. I've seen enough of you for today!

- "See you tomorrow, sugar!" Samuel chuckled behind the door.

Terrence shook his head, overwhelmed by their stupidity.

- "You guys are an item, really..."

Craig was not listening at all. He had faxed into his pajamas and was almost in bed. Albus had closed his eyes, curling up under his scarlet blanket. Terrence sighed and settled for the night as well. Malfoy blew out his candle and relit it the next moment to swing a flash onto the swallow who continued to flutter with an annoying paper noise.

Then everything went quiet.

Terrence joined his hands under his neck on the pillow, and smiled in the dark.

Some things did not change. All the inhabitants of the room went to bed when Albus did and Potter had never noticed it. The first night, he had say sheepishly, "sorry, I think I snore..." and had taken a blow from Finnigan's comforter: "you better not!"

Then he had fallen asleep and the boys had discovered a secret they had carefully guarded until then.

Albus was not snoring. He was _purring_.

And in the silence of the room at the top of a tower in Scotland, in a scary castle after an exhilarating but exhausting school first day, the gentle and reassuring sound had lit up like a night light for the three eleven years old boys.

Four years later, it had become a habit. A bit like jumping over the thirteenth step of the stairs when going to Divination, or wear earplugs whenever Peeves showed up, as always carrying with you a piece of carrot to give to Bert Hammersmith's Flemish Giant before it'd bite your rear end, and watch for the moment when unfurled the houses banners along the Quidditch pitch before a game.

Finnigan even claimed he had trouble falling asleep when he was at home, in the absence of discrete and warm purr.

Scorpius Malfoy would never have confessed it, but it was one of the things he missed most during the holidays.

_And Terrence ..._

Terrence opened his eyes wide in the dark.

_Speaking of weird things ..._

_A purring wizard, we never heard about this in class ..._

_Albus, how many secrets do you hide?_

He wanted to stay awake longer to think about the new issues raised by the latter observation, but the effect of the purr was just as strong as during his first year at Hogwarts, and his eyelids were already heavy.

He yawned and turned to the side.

In the opposite bed, Malfoy was already in deep slumber. Finnigan was snoring loud, mouth open and legs stretched.

Terrence closed his eyes.

_I'll think about it tomorrow ..._

The swallow's ashes were still a bit red on the floor. The moon was sliding by the low window, bathing the room in a blue light. On Craig's nightstand, sand slowly crumbled through the hourglass clock.

Everything was peaceful.

That night, Terrence dreamed of the day he had met Albus for the first time.

* * *

><p><strong><em>To be continued ...<em>**


	4. Toughy & Spoon

An incredible cacophony filled the small pet shop.

Francis and Amelia Swanson were standing in the middle of the store, their mouths open and with astonished eyes.

- "How can I help you, me dears?" asked the old witch who was getting off the counter in a creepy noise of bones.

- "W-w-we j-j-ust w-w-anted a-a-a pet for our s-s-son", Francis managed to say after a few minutes, trying not to stare at the huge wart growing on the hooked nose of the seller.

- "It's his f-first year at Ho-g-gwarts", stammered his wife.

The witch chuckled and rubbed her prominent chin that was adorned with three very long gray hair.

Terrence chuckled, perfectly at ease. The old lady looked like the 'Wicked Fairy' in his storybook, but there was definitely something affectionate in her voice.

- "First of the family, innit?"

- "Yes", said Terrence proudly.

- "What a nice lad", commented the hoarse voice while a scraggy hand patted the child's blond hair. "Let's see ... what would you think of an owl? It's important to own one, especially when you come from the Muggle world."

Francis and Amelia exchanged a glance with their son.

- "Okay", said cheerfully Terrence, putting his hands on his hips. "But I want one that doesn't bite and wont bring mice in the living room. My mummy's scared of mice."

The witch giggled again. She disappeared through the cages suspended across the ceiling, pushing aside those where waddled rats.

- "Hmmmm ... ah, that's it. Come and see, me boy."

Both adults bent to sneak to the back of the shop, being careful not to knock over the baskets precariously piled. Amelia jumped as she passed by a cage full of parrots cursing like sailors and Francis almost stepped on a scrawny cat that shot him a yellow glare before scratching him on the leg.

- "Daddy, Mummy, look! Isn't he cute?" Terrence cried in delight.

He had in his arms a tiny ball of gray and tawny feathers. The little ivory beck shone and the owl's eyes looked like excited black marbles.

- "He's called Toughy", said the witch, foraging in her nostril with a yellow streaked nail. "It's not a baby, despite its size. He's faithful and efficient over long distances, although it's hard to believe this when you see him."

- "I won't deny it", said Francis under his breath.

He gave a look of apology to the old woman who was chuckling again.

- "Do we need to feed him rodents?" Amelia timidly asked, gathering her courage. "Where can we buy some? Does it need a basket or a necklace?"

Without putting away the bird that looked comfortable on his arm, Terrence pulled a tattered brochure out of his school bag.

- "Look, Mummy, they explain everything in there. Domestic owls are very proper, they're used to live in houses and it's not diff…"

The doorbell chimed, followed by a hubbub of voices.

- "And anyway, don't you dare to pick an owl just to copy me!" shrieked the angry voice of a boy.

- "James, that's enough. Leave your brother choose what he wants, it's his own pet", said a man's voice.

- "I'm not _copying_", protested a shy but indignant little voice. "It's just that ... that ... I wanted to have an owl just like Daddy when he was in school ..."

- "NO! Dad, he's doing it _on purpose_!"

- "James, what did we say?" cut off the voice of a woman. "Stop your nonsense."

- "Oh Mummy, look, they have _bats_!" squeaked the excited voice of a little girl. "I want a bat! Oh please, Mummy, can I have a bat? Please, please, _please_! Pretty please!"

Terrence slipped behind the saleswoman, curious and fascinated, like every time they met a family of wizards doing their shopping in _Diagon Alley_ crowded at this season of the year.

They looked rather normal, compared to others, actually. The mother was dressed with a skirt and a blouse, and her auburn hair was neatly combed. The father wore round glasses and a suit jacket with jeans - just like Terrence's dad. The oldest of the boys had messy hair and a rather smug expression. The little girl's face was dotted with freckles and her almost orange hair was knitted in two short braids. She was hopping on the square, rubbing her hands imploringly. The other boy was probably to be in first year at Hogwarts, too. Terrence could only see his back. He was holding the hand of the man.

- "Mr. _Potter_!" cried the old witch, making her way through two basins of toads that were making disgusting bubbles. "Mr. _Harry Potter_ in me shop! What an honor, Merlin's beard, what an honor!"

She beamed as she curtsied, holding the corners of her shabby dress. The man rubbed his neck, looking a bit embarrassed.

- "Good evening, ma'am", he said. "We ... uh. We're here to choose a pet for my son Albus. Albus Severus is entering in his first year at Hogwarts, you see. Yeah, it's his turn, now."

The saleswoman leaned toward the dark-haired boy who looked a lot like his father, and who took a step back, hiding behind the arm of the man.

- "Aww, they're growing up, these lovely seeds!" she cooed. "So, what pet do you wish for, me dear child?"

From where he was, Terrence clearly saw the green eyes of his future classmate glancing at his brother then at his father.

- "An ... owl. I would like an owl ... – please", he whispered.

- "Dad! _Tell_ him!" squealed once again the one called James. "He's doing _everything_ like me, it's _too_ much!"

- "James, shut up", ordered the woman. She lightly pulled on the braids of the girl who was still pleading. "Lily, you too, that's enough. You're not getting a bat. And we already told you that you'd pick a pet when you enter in first year, like everyone else."

The man exchanged a glance with her.

- "Maybe you could go wait for us at the _Leaky Cauldron"_, he began. "Al and I ..."

- "Oh no, can't we go instead to Uncle Georges' shop? Please, Mum, please?" James interrupted.

Terrence found him increasingly annoying.

- "What a character, this one ..." Francis whispered behind him, raising his eyebrows.

Amelia nodded approvingly.

- "Okay", said the woman with auburn hair. "But if you threw even _one_ fit there, let me tell you that you'll spend what's left of holidays at Grandma Weasley's. And _not_ in the garden. Is that _understood_?"

When the three of them were gone, the store became much calmer. Well, except for the animals mewing – chirping - squeaking.

The man with glasses crouched in front of the child and smiled.

- "You can choose whatever you want, Al. Don't worry.."

The green-eyed boy nodded. He looked around, locked eyes with a peevish owl that hooted faintly, bent over the toads' basins and stroked their slimy horny heads. The scrubby cat that had been so surly to Francis Swanson came to rub against the child's legs, purring like an old engine.

The old witch was watching him in loving awe.

Terrence realized the jabber had decreased strangely, as if the creatures held their breath. His parents, who had seemed willing to pay quickly and get out of the store during the family's quarrel, looked completely charmed, now.

- "Oh", suddenly said Albus, as his face lit up.

He was looking up at a white owl fluffing her feathers on a high perch.

The man with glasses put his hands in his pockets and smiled.

- "This is what you want?"

The boy did not answer immediately. He had gotten on tiptoe to see the owl better and leaned against the counter. Now he was looking at something that was _on_ the counter.

- "Ah", the old woman said, clearing her throat - an absolutely disgusting noise. She joggled up the child and put her bony hand on his shoulder. "I see you've met Spoon."

- "What's wrong with him? Is he sick?" the boy asked, lifting up misted green eyes.

Terrence could not bear it any longer. He slipped between two cages, causing tweeters and whistles of protest and joined them at the counter.

His parents followed him and greeted the man with messy black hair who was wiping his glasses on a corner of his jacket.

- "Hi", said Terrence planting himself in front of the other first-year student. He was taller than him by a good four and a half inches.

- "Hello", timidly said the boy.

When you saw them closer, the green eyes shimmered with golden sparkles.

Toughy hopped on Terrence's arm and flew to Albus' head, on which he landed with a satisfied hoot.

- "Oh", said Terrence. He smiled. "He likes you."

He turned his head to the counter and looked at the black and white ferret curled up in a ragged cloth.

- "His fur's dirty. If he's not washing, it means he's sick, that's for sure", he said in a scholarly tone.

- "Um."

Albus nodded and his eyes filled up with tears.

Terrence did not know why, but suddenly nothing seemed more important than comfort the boy he did not know.

- "Hey, it's okay, don't worry", he tried, mechanically pushing off a black lock from the face of another child.

- "But no one will want him to be their pet, poor little one ..." stammered the boy with green eyes.

The old witch leaned over and flashed him a toothless grin – full of affection but really hideous.

- "Do you wanna have it?"

Albus reached for the sick ferret who rose slightly and rubbed his mangy nose against the warm fingers.

- "Yes", he replied in a small voice, after a last look at the beautiful white owl hooting royally on her perch.

The man with round glasses had approached silently. He smiled at his son.

- "Okay", he said. "Let's take it home."

Albus was too small to reach for the ferret but Terrence got on tiptoe and took it, very carefully. He placed it gently in the arms of the other boy, then whistled Toughy. The tiny owl opened big shocked eyes, but flew off, landed on Terrence's shoulder with a hoot and pecked his ear affectionately.

- "How much is it, madam?" asked Albus' father, looking into the pocket of his jacket.

- "Nothing", said the old witch. "Spoon wasn't for sale."

- "Ah", the man said after a pause. He cast a glance towards the child and his brow furrowed slightly. "Ah," he repeated.

He caught the eyes of Francis and Amelia Swanson and politely bowed his head to greet them, as if he was distracted.

- "Al? Come, son, let's go to the others."

The bell chimed again when they went out, hand in hand. Albus held tight the feeble creature and did not see that people on the street were looking strangely at his father. Terrence's eyes followed them through the window, and then he went to the 'Wicked Fairy' and tugged on her sleeve.

- "Is Spoon going to die?" he asked. His blue eyes lit up, angry. "You shouldn't sell animals in such a weak state. It'll make _him_ cry ..."

- "Terri! _Darling_, how can you…!" cried his mother, horrified.

- "He's a bit too clever for his own sake", Francis said apologetically.

The old witch scratched her crooked chin.

- "There's no harm", she sputtered happily. "You've got here a bright young wizard who's not afraid to speak his mind. That's good."

She leaned over and her knuckles cracked, as if her back and knees were going to unbuckle from one moment to the next.

- "The ferret has no more than a few days left to live, that's true", she said, staring at Terrence who felt a chill going down his spine. "But that could change. You see, me boy, there ain't many people who have such power at this age. The young Mr. Potter ..."

She stopped talking and her gaze got lost as she readjusted her wool shawl.

- "You'll see", she concluded. "You'll be in school with him, so you'll see."

Francis coughed discreetly.

- "This ... _Potter _man. Is it someone important in your community?"

The eyes of the old lady grew wide in surprise, then she laughed openly. As if the spell had been broken, all the creatures resumed to prattling, tweetering, yapping and making a whole lot of noise.

Terrence frowned as he gently stopped Toughy from nibbling his cheek.

He did not understand.

And he did not understand either how it happened, but the black and white ferret lived for two more years before dying quietly, huddled in a corner of the canopy over Albus' bed.

Meanwhile, Terrence had become the best friend of the green-eyed boy who had not chosen the beautiful white owl.

* * *

><p><strong><em>TBC...<em>**

**_Next Chapter : Nightmare_**


	5. Nightmare

Before he was completely awake, Scorpius Malfoy knew something was wrong.

_First_, because his peaceful dream – he was playing Quidditch and lots of friends were cheering for him in the stands - suddenly turned into a pitiful comedy: all spectators' heads became balloons and spun to the sky with clownish sniggers, while his own broom was decorated with atrocious pink bows.

He _only_ had such ridiculous nightmares during the holidays.

Then he woke up in a startle and realized the bedroom was silent.

_Which explained the stupid conclusion of his dream._

He kicked off the blankets and got up, grabbing his dressing gown on the chair next to the window. The moon bathed the room in ethereal blue light.

Terrence's shadow sat up on the opposite bed.

- "Scorpius?" he whispered worriedly.

- "Yeah", the blond boy grumbled, stifling a cry of pain: he had stepped on the scraps of Fabius Macmillan's Sneakoscope.

- "What's the matter?" suddenly mumbled Craig, sitting up haggardly.

Terrence always wondered how Finnigan managed to look disheveled with so little hair on the head.

- "Albus stopped purring", reported Scorpius, carefully circling around a pile of mess in the dark.

- "Engine's broken?" muttered Finnigan sleepily. He fumbled for his wand and eventually got a hold of it. "_Lumos_".

Malfoy blinked, dazzled.

- "Not that strong!"

- "_Blimey_, guys, it's four in the morning ..."

Terrence, who had got up, hissed angrily, turning to Finnigan's bed.

- "Shut up! You're noisier than Peeves!"

Scorpius and he bent over Albus' bed then raised their heads and looked at each other.

- "He's _asleep_?" snapped Malfoy incredulously.

Terrence nibbled his lip.

- "I hope", he said at last.

He shook the shoulder of his best friend, whose messy black hair was the only thing showing.

- "Al."

The boy curled up under the sheet with a whimper.

- "If he's asleep, let him be", Scorpius said, shrugging to hide the uneasiness that gripped his guts. "Maybe the purring was supposed to end one day."

_More likely it's something to add up to the fishiness list_, Terrence thought, his eyebrows so furrowed it hurt.

- "Oy, sleepy-head."

- "Well, tell me when you have restarted him, 'kay..." yawned Finnigan from his bed where he lazily lay down again after pushing his wand under his pillow.

Albus turned to the other side and moaned. The two boys had trouble seeing his face in the night, but they saw enough to understand he was drenched in sweat.

- "Al, wake up", Terrence rasped.

- "Shall I get a teacher?" Scorpius suggested – his tone was becoming more and more irritated as his concern rose.

- "We shou ..."

Terrence's voice suddenly went out. He swallowed and avoided Malfoy's gaze.

- "_What's that_? articulated the other boy, his mouth completely dry.

Something had lit up under Albus' cover. It was diffuse, almost transparent, but the shape was easily recognizable.

- "Looks like a flower", Scorpius whispered. "What is it? His wand's on the nightstand, as usual. Where does it come from, if it's not a spell?"

Terrence clenched his sweaty palms, then wiped them on his pajama bottoms.

_It's the exact same shape as the scar-tattoo._

Before he could think further, Albus winced suddenly and began to mumble.

- "No… don't ... No, Daddy, don't ..."

His head sank into the pillow as if he was trying to escape a horrible vision. He had a sob and Scorpius stiffened.

- "Swanson? What _exactly_ is happening?" he hissed.

Terrence did not answer.

- "Al? Al, you're at Hogwarts, wake up!" he pressed, grabbing his best friend's arms.

The sleeping boy's nape writhed back and his fists closed on the sheet. He was trembling and starting weeping in his slumber. He kicked off the sheet. His shirt was rolled up and the flower-shaped mark appeared, curved in fire on his sweaty chest.

- "Dad ... Daddy, I beg you ... no ... Daddy, please! DON'T!"

A jolt shook him violently and he awoke, disoriented, out of breath. The moment he opened his eyes, the light disappeared, leaving only the swollen red scar on his skin.

- "Terrence? Scorpius?" he gasped, discovering the two faces anxiously staring at him.

- "Stop scaring us to death, mate", Terrence stammered, pushing up his glasses on his nose, while Malfoy regained his senses and the control of his furious face.

Albus sat down heavily. He hurt all over and felt sick. Mechanically, he pulled down his shirt, looked around him.

- "Here", Scorpius said, handing him a chipped cup in which he had poured what was left from a butterbeer bottle.

Albus drank greedily, then flinched.

- "Eurgh, that's gross. How long has it been here? Tastes like old socks ..."

Terrence shook himself back to reality.

- "Oh. I think that's the cup I used to prepare the anti-horns remedy my grandmother wanted for Christmas", he said absently. "It was there? I thought I lost it..."

Scorpius pinched his nose as he sat on Albus' bed.

His legs were wobbly and his ideas struggled to get back in order in his brain.

- "I don't even remember what the nightmare was about ... " Albus said after a few minutes of silence. "Sorry I woke you up, guys ..."

Malfoy looked up, exasperated.

- "Bobbie was right when she wanted to keep you for the night", finally said Terrence, leaning against the wall.

In his bed, Finnigan was snoring at full throttle.

* * *

><p>oOoOoOo<p>

* * *

><p>Wendy's eyes went gradually from a surprised face to a derisive smile as she watched the four boys who were sitting in the classroom, yawning in the hubbub that preceded <em>Transfiguration<em>.

- "Must have been quite a party, I reckon", she said sarcastically, pulling her chair that shrieked horribly on the woooden floor.

- "Button up, Philips", grumbled Scorpius who had a headache and whose eyes had become slits at the shrill sound.

Craig Finnigan spread his arms across his desk and closed his eyes with an indecent yawn.

- "They shouldn't force us to use our brain so early in the morning", he complained.

- "At least, if you were tired from studying... But no! What an idea to read your stupid magazines that late in the night!" said Rose Weasley who sat next to Wendy, shaking her head disapprovingly.

She pushed back her long venetian blonde hair. The tuition was held in common with Ravenclaw.

Terrence kept his eyes open with his forefingers and thumbs.

- "… wasn't reading", he protested weakly.

- "Experiments are for holidays", Wendy flung in with an amused smile, hiding her concern for her Quidditch team's seeker who looked like he had lost weight overnight.

_Was he sick? Is it still hurting? Have these silly twits let him rest? I thought he had to stay in the infirmary for the night ..._

Rose turned to Albus, who was her cousin, and frowned when she saw the dark circles under his eyes and how his uniform hung pathetically on his thin collarbones.

- "Oh, not you too, Al!" she exclaimed disappointedly.

Fortunately, before she could lecture him, the teacher arrived and walked to the front in dancing steps.

- "Quiet, please, that would be nice", sing-sang the woman with blond-white wavy hair.

She put the enormous book she was carrying on the table, raising a huge cloud of dust that she scattered, coughing, then spun around. Her lawn-colored long shirt rippled and the double-row radish-shaped beads necklace hanging on her blouse rattled merrily.

- "Good morning ladies, good morning gentlemen."

- "Good morning professor", graciously answered the students.

Luna Lovegood was reputed to be completely bizarre, but she was highly placed in the school surveys. You did not take long to realize that her dreamy voice did not prevent her from being a powerful, intelligent witch. She was the director of Ravenclaw House and had been teaching _Transfiguration_ for three years at Hogwarts. Some rumors said she had worked at the Ministry of Magic before becoming a teacher, but others asserted she was a reporter for _the Quibbler_. Ravenclaw students claimed she had been an Auror in secret missions and those of Gryffindor looked forward to the love story between her and their director...

She smiled enigmatically and waved her wand at the black board on which her quirky handwriting loomed out.

- "_Animagus"_, she said. "Could someone explain what it is?"

Rose Weasley raised her arm at once.

- "Yes, Miss Weasley."

- "An Animagus is a wizard who can change into an animal but retains control of his mind during his metamorphosis."

Luna Lovegood nodded.

- "Very good. Ten points to Ravenclaw."

She took a few steps on the platform.

- "Becoming an animagus is a long and difficult process and there are just a few animagi in our country, all identified by the Ministry", she added. "We monitor closely those who want - and have the ability - to become an animagus, especially since an illegal one caused all that evilness more than twenty years ago ..."

Craig Finnigan leaned toward his neighbor.

- "I bet she's talking about the wars. I reckon it'd be better to address it in our first year, rather than giving us spoilers for six years."

Samuel Flinch-Fletchley did not answer, he was busy pretending to pick up the tip of his quill.

- "There are currently two animagi recognized by the ministry within your school", continued Mrs. Lovegood in her piping voice. "One is our Director, Minerva McGonagall, and the other ..."

She discretely cleared her throat to restore the silence her last sentence had broken off.

- "And the other one..."

She paused again and sighed.

- "Mr. Flinch-Fletchley, your quill tip is next to your left sole, and not under Miss Brown's skirt."

Miranda Brown gave a little cry and covered her flushed face, while Samuel straightened, grimacing.

- "Five points from Gryffindor", said the professor in her ethereal voice, so friendly it almost made Terrence smile.

He suspected her to have a lot more humor that could lead one to believe while seeing her dreamy bulging blue eyes.

- "And the other animagus we have the pleasure to have in our midst is your _Defense Against Dark Arts_' teacher, Mauritia Curtis."

- "Please", Wendy asked, raising her hand, "what animal can they change into?"

- "I heard the director could morph into a cat", intervened one of the Morgensten twins – the one who had a mole on the ear.

Luna Lovegood smiled heavenly.

- "You heard well. Regarding Mrs Curtis ... Well, if her current state would allow, I'm sure she would be very happy to show you her animagus."

- "What do you think she changes into?" Fabius Macmillan chuckled, giving a nudge to Emile Scarecrow. "A _whale_?"

The young woman's white eyelashes fluttered.

- "I'm afraid twenty points are again lost to Gryffindor because of you, Mr. Macmillan", she sighed. "This was _not_ very polite ..."

An all-round outcry greeted this announcement, quickly calmed by a languid 'tsk' of the teacher.

Craig Finnigan jumped on Fabius when the period was over, with the clear intention to shampoo his head and make him stop his nonsense, while Rose Weasley and Miranda Brown lingered behind to ask questions. Terrence gathered his things and stood up. He stopped when he saw Albus had not moved, his arms folded on his desk and his forehead buried in the crook of his elbow. He walked over and put his hand on the teenager's shoulder.

- "Hey. You dead? Do you feel like going to DADA or get back to the infirmary?"

Scorpius had stopped at the door and watched them with his usual scowl.

Albus got up and quickly ran his hands over his face, as if that could help him to stay awake.

- "I'm okay", he muttered.

He smiled to dispel the doubt he saw in the eyes of his best friend and on the face of Wendy who was waiting a few steps from them.

- "I don't know what that nightmare was about, but I never managed to get back to sleep afterwards ... Anyway. I hope DADA won't be as soporific as last time."

The week before, they had spent two hours copying chapters 11 and 18 from their textbooks instead of practicing because Mrs Curtis - who was pregnant from head to toes - had nausea.

- "With some luck, her replacement might already be there", said Wendy encouragingly, as they went across the courtyard to the large room where their favorite class was held.

But there was only a large wardrobe when they entered and the other students were keeping at bay from it, as it twitched on its base and muffled screams were heard inside.

* * *

><p><strong><em>tbc ...<em>**

**_Next chapter_****_ : HIDDEN DEEP INSIDE_**


	6. Hidden Deep Inside

Mrs Curtis went down the steps carefully, hands on both sides of her enormous belly. She was a little witch with brown hair properly tied up under a velvet bibi, who wore a very fit dove-gray gown, short and decorated with small pearl buttons. Her high pointy collar was folded behind her neck and her black lace tights were harmonized with her mittens.

- "Hello, children", she said in her elegant Queen's accent. "Welcome to our last class together."

Some girls complained, disappointed, but most students were too intrigued by the mysterious wardrobe to be concerned about the announcement.

- "Today, there will be no boring theory, but maybe some chills as we'll practice this spell", the professor continued, amused. "Could one of you tell me what's in the wardrobe?"

Terrence raised his hand.

- "I think it's a Boggart", he said. "A creature that lurks in dark corners and takes the form of what scares most whoever discovers it."

The woman nodded approvingly.

- "Very good, Mr. Swanson. Five points to Gryffindor."

Samuel Flinch-Fletchley nudged Craig Finnigan behind Wendy's back.

- "How much do I _like_ when we don't have class with Ravenclaw!" he whispered. "Swanson's smarter than Miss knows-it-all Weasley, but she always cuts his line."

Miranda Brown turned and glared at him.

_"Shut up, twit. D'you want to make us loose these points right away?" _she mouthed silently_._

Mrs Curtis took a few steps into the room, which seemed strangely empty with the desks pushed to the sides. She patted the wardrobe that continued to shake ferociously.

- "To be more precise, Boggarts take the form of your most hidden fear", she explained. "It may be an irrational phobia or even a trauma. This is why, despite the fun side of this class, I will ask you to show the utmost respect for your classmates. We do not always know what scares us the most and you might be surprised."

An uncomfortable whisper ran through the group.

- "Do we all have to face it? asked Violet Morgensten, pursing her lips. "I don't..."

She shut up when she met the severe glance of their teacher.

- "_None_ of you will get away from the exercise", said Mrs Curtis coldly. "It may be unpleasant, but mastering defense against a Boggart _will_ help you learn to keep your cool in all circumstances."

She went to the window and cleared her throat.

- "Well", she said, sitting on the ledge, bothered by her big belly. "Repeat after me: _Riddikulus!_"

The students dutifully obeyed.

- "Can you imagine if we'd have our wands in hand?" chuckled Fabius Macmillan in the ear of Emile Scarecrow, whose face split into an irrepressible smile. "She could suddenly find herself in her panties - or _worse_!"

The hubbub fortunately prevented their teacher from hearing, but Scorpius, who was next to Fabius, crushed his toes under his foot.

- "Did you swear to make us lose the House Cup, or what?" he hissed under his breath.

Macmillan merely shrugged.

- "_Riddikulus"_, he repeated carelessly.

- "All right", said the teacher who rose again and stood in front of them. "Now, here's what will happen. You will stand one by one in front of the wardrobe and the boggart will take the form of your worst nightmare. You will raise your wand and will pronounce the incantation. Be careful, though, that's not all it takes. The only thing that can shake off a boggart is ... "

She paused and frowned, her eyes on Albus who was in front of her.

- "Mr. Potter, is everything all right?"

Terrence and Wendy, who were standing on either side of their friend, immediately turned their heads toward him.

The green-eyed boy lost countenance.

- "Uh ... yes, yes, it is. Why?"

Mrs Curtis arched her eyebrows.

- "You don't look so good. It is not the idea of facing the Boggart that bothers you, I hope?"

Albus blushed, hearing the muffled laughter behind him.

- "No, not at all, professor!" he said hastily. "I ... it's just that I ... I didn't eat much for breakfast this morning."

It was true, but it still looked like he was lying.

Mrs Curtis glared at him.

- "Hum. So I was saying", she went on, turning to the wardrobe that had increased its frantic shaking. "The only thing that can shake off a boggart is _laughter_. To counteract your fear, imagine something totally inept."

Miranda Brown raised her hand.

- "Could you show us an example, please, Professor?"

The woman seemed about to accept, then she saw something beyond the group of students and her face darkened.

- "No", she replied dryly. "I'm no Professor Lupin, I do not think it is always necessary to facilitate learning for the students."

- "Who's that?" Finnigan muttered. "Her replacement?"

Mrs Curtis clapped her hands.

- "All right, children. Form a line, now! Wands at hand, ladies and gentlemen."

While everyone was pushing and pulling in an excited hurly-burly Terrence discreetly looked at the back.

- "Professor Longbottom's here", he whispered, leaning his two friends.

Wendy cast a glance toward the door, surprised.

- "Doesn't he have a class with Slytherin at this hour?"

- "Maybe he got tired of them and gave them a study on carnivorous plants", Albus said. He was leaning against the wooden pillar of the room and looked like he was trying to disappear.

Wendy cocked her head to the side.

- "She was right, you _are_ pale", she said in a worried tone.

- "I'm perfectly fine", Albus shrugged. "It's just that I really - _really_ – don't want to do this stupid exercise."

Terrence smiled. He crossed his arms.

- "Why? What scares you, anyway? And don't tell me it's an animal, because I won't believe you..."

- "Are you ready, Mr. Finnigan?" asked Mrs Curtis in a loud voice, standing at safe distance from the wardrobe.

She waved her wand and the latch unlocked. The cabinet ceased to move and roar. For a moment, the silence was complete, then the door opened, creaking. A zombie slipped out, his face dripping with slimy green goo, bandages loose on his arms.

- "_Ri ... Riddikulus_!" Craig mumbled.

There was a resounding CRACK! and the zombie found himself wearing a pineapple-peach-melba hat.

Samuel Flinch-Fletchley, who was behind Finnigan, burst into forced laughter, then turned pale as the boggart suddenly changed into a swarm of giant wasps that chased after him.

- "_Riddikulus_!"

CRACK!

The wasps tumbled on the floor, bouncing, turned into gumdrops.

- "What's with wasps?" Wendy muttered, bewildered.

- "He's allergic", said Terrence, looking more and more interested in the exercise.

While the Boggart changed into a rabid dog then into a meowing dog in front of Sandie Morgensten, Albus leaned back further in his corner, sitting almost on the wooden floor.

- "I think I'm freaking out a little bit", said Wendy in a slightly pitched voice while observing Emile Scarecrow make a pterodactyl skeleton do tap dance.

Terrence's smile widened.

- "Why? You're one of the bravest girls in school! Or craziest, I don't know."

She gave him a shove.

- "It's just that this creature gets you by surprise ! Say, I'm scared of creeping bugs, but who knows, it might just change into my cousin Diane when she had her foot crushed by a car. It was _horrible_! I don't want to go through that again either..."

- "And I'm sure it will turn into _James _when it's my turn_"_, Albus said through clenched teeth, his head down. "I _hate_ that. The whole school will know and it'll be a living hell ..."

Terrence affectionately tousled his hair.

- "Don't worry. I'm sure no one will have time to notice. Imagine him turning into a super ugly thing. A baby mandrake or a weasel."

- "You all right, Potter?" whispered Professor Longbottom, as he made his way to them. "Mrs Abbot told me she was not very pleased with you. You were supposed to _return to the infirmary_ this morning, not _go to class_. I know you're a rather well-behaved student, but I have difficulty understanding why a fifteen years old boy would disregard the permission to miss school ... "

There was some irritation in his tone.

- "I'm sorry, sir", Albus said, rising awkwardly. "But I'm fine, I promise... I ..."

A scream interrupted him.

- "Do not panic, Miss Caradoc", intervened quietly Professor Curtis, while the girl fell sitting on the floor, quivering, her bulging eyes staring at the half-vampire, half-goblin thing that approached her breathing heavily. "Think of something ridiculous. Say the incantation believing in it strongly ..."

But Jane shook her head, tears streaming down her face, and crawled back farther.

Mrs Curtis sighed.

- "Mr. Malfoy, on to you. Step forward, please!"

Scorpius obeyed, his back straight and his face stiff.

The boggart swirled in a greenish haze of smoke, then changed into a forty years old man, tall and thin, dressed in a white shirt. His blond hair was slicked back and he had aristocratic features. He would have been handsome if his face had not been distorted by a half-desperate, half-hateful smirk.

- "Who's this?" Wendy whispered. "He looks like ..."

- "Scorpius", completed Albus. "Maybe it's his father?"

The man curled up his shirt's sleeve and Malfoy blanched visibly, his eyes fixed on the ghostly figure, completely petrified.

- "What does he have on his arm?" asked Terrence, rising on tiptoe to see over Fabius Macmillan's head.

There was something black, like a sort of half-erased inscription on the man's arm.

The students began to whisper: this was not scary, it was just ... weird.

Neville Longbottom made his way through the group and put his hand on Scorpius' shoulder.

- "Calm down, Mr. Malfoy", he said gently. "Take your time, you can do it."

Scorpius swallowed hard. He pointed his wand at the blonde man who winced.

- "_Riddikulus_!" he uttered.

CRACK!

The strange mark changed into a sailor tattoo, a red heart pierced with a crudely drawn anchor.

Mrs Curtis frowned.

- "I would be _grateful_ if you did _not_ intervene in my class, Neville", she said icily.

Professor Longbottom pulled away with an embarrassed smile.

- "I'm sorry, Mauritia, I meant no harm", he said while the Boggart took the form of a wet rat in front of Violet Morgensten who began to squeal.

- "_Riddikulus, riddikulus, riddikulus_!"

CRACK!

The rat was suddenly wearing pink hair curlers.

The line of students who had not yet passed in front of the Boggart had decreased significantly. Scorpius, still in shock, sat next to Jane Caradoc who was blowing her nose as if she was trying to choke herself to death. The others looked at them with a little distance, whispering among themselves.

Albus, looking like a death row prisoner, followed Terrence who was getting in line with a thrill of excitement. Wendy was behind them. She bit her lower lip nervously.

- "What are you doing here, Neville?" gritted Mrs Curtis, keeping her eyes fixed on the 4th year teens.

- "I came to get Potter", the man replied calmly. "He's sick and should be in the infirmary."

- "Since when is it your job to assist Nurse Abbot?" snorted the woman. "Don't make me laugh. Apparently Potter had fun during the night with his roommates who behave like infamous baboons, that's all. I don't know why you're so indulgent with some of your students. It will be of no use for them later on."

CRACK!

She lifted her chin, looking very much displeased, her arms crossed over her big belly like an angry chubby gerbil.

Neville Longbottom suppressed a grin despite the anxiety that seemed to gnaw on his heart.

- "Mauritia, you _know_ I'm not doing this..." he tried again.

Terrence, who was watching the muttered dialogue, trying to read their lips, was forced to drift his attention away when Kevin Mordecrat stepped aside.

The Boggart whirled in a cloud of gray smoke then changed into a dragon. The blond teenager suddenly felt like he was six again and watched, terrified, a giant lizard suddenly coming out from his storybook.

- "Uh-uh..."

He stepped back almost despite himself.

_Shiny bronze scales, dilated fuming nostrils, a steel tail, the spine covered with sharp peaks, empty eyes like opals ..._

The dragon let out a torrent of flames and Terrence swallowed wrong.

_It's okay. I'm fine. It's not burning for real. I'm not six, this is not the first time I see magic and I have _a wand_ in hand._

He raised his arm.

- "_Riddikulus_!" he said firmly.

CRACK!

The dragon stepped on his wing and stumbled. He fell without elegance and found himself on his back, whining, making Terrence almost want to pat his belly like you'd do to a good doggie.

- "Your turn", he said with a smile, stepping aside to let Albus come forth.

Professor Longbottom got up and almost tripped over when Mrs Curtis caught him by the sleeve.

- "You will _not_ stop Potter from doing the exercise", she hissed, outraged. "I had his brother before him and I _know_ he will not make Voldemort appear!"

- "You don't understand, Mauritia", stammered Neville. "Albus is - _different_ ..."

She glared at him, but he was not looking, staring at the yellow smoke that billowed above the floor.

A silhouette with messy hair began to take shape and Wendy inwardly prayed for Albus to be fast enough to cast the spell before the others would recognize his brother.

Terrence clenched his fists in his pockets as if it could have helped.

_Come on, Al ... who cares for James. He's a dollop head. You shouldn't compare to him, you're worth him a thousand times ... I don't know why you have this inferiority complex, but ..._

The figure was slowly becoming well-defined - and it was _not_ James. It was a man in his thirties, with the same mop of black hair, the same sharp features and the same way of standing with his pelvis slightly askew.

He was wearing a jacket with fur on the hood and held his wand. Behind his round glasses, he had green eyes filled with despair.

- "Hey, this is James Potter's father, there was his picture on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ the day before yesterday", said Fabius Macmillan, intrigued.

Craig Finnigan gave him a nudge.

- "You dummy", he whispered. "If it's James's father, it's also Albus's, git."

- "Oh, it's _Harry Potter"_, cried Violet. "They say he will be the next Minister of Magic!"

The whispers swelled in the room in seconds.

Albus was still standing in front of the Boggart and looked at him blankly.

Cold sweat was running down his back and his fingers trembled on his wand, but he did not know why.

_It was his father._

_His father whom he adored, in whom he had complete trust._

Neville tried to free his arm.

- "Oh no, oh no, oh no ..." he muttered a broken voice.

But Professor Curtis did not let go.

Terrence looked at Scorpius and saw him stand up, his eyes widening too.

The man in the smoke raised his wand and opened his mouth.

- "_Avada Keda_ ..." he yelled, just before Neville rushed to Albus and sent the boggart back in the wardrobe with a blow of magic that lit up the whole room.

The door slammed shut and the wardrobe began rumbling and shaking furiously again.

Terrence realized he had held his breath and breathed in, his heart pounding.

- "Albus!" cried Wendy, catching the boy with green eyes, deadly pale, as he swayed on his feet.

A wand fell to the floor and rolled away slowly.

- "What does this mean?" Mrs Curtis articulated in an unsteady voice.

Professor Longbottom did not answer. He had turned to Albus and took out of his pocket a bar of chocolate, that he was breaking into pieces. The woman put away a strand of hair behind her ear to compose herself, then took a few steps towards the students that remained stunned.

- "Class... class is over", she said. "You, uh. You can take your stuff and go."

Scorpius was approaching, hesitant, the group to which had added Terrence when Albus suddenly freed the arm Wendy was holding and fled the room, a hand on his mouth. Terrence ran after him, almost immediately followed by the girl.

Neville Longbottom watched them leave and passed a hand over his weary face.

- "What did we do …?" he murmured. "Oh, Harry ... What did we do ...?"

The sun was streaming into the vast almost empty room and slid over the wooden floor.

The wardrobe continued to shake like a crazy prisoner behind bars.

The students left the room one after the other in a heavy silence barely disturbed by their whispers.

Mauritia Curtis put away books that did not need to be tidied up on the window sill.

Scorpius Malfoy picked up the wand that had fallen to the ground and left last, after a glance at the Herbolgy teacher who seemed suddenly very tired.

In the boys bathroom, down the hall, Albus was throwing up, bent over the sink, his knuckles white as his hands clenched on the porcelain. Wendy was beside him and rubbed his back gently, her eyes full of tears. Terrence was leaning against the wall of the toilet cubicles, his arms crossed, and waited silently.

Albus finally turned on the water. His back was shivering and from the way he sputtered and half choked, you would have think he was crying. He rinsed his mouth and copiously splashed his face.

- "You okay ...?" Wendy asked in a small worried voice, handing him a tissue.

His hair dripping, Albus turned his head toward her and she bit her lip.

His jaw was contracted, he was even paler than before and the drops rolling down his cheeks continuously had nothing to do with the cold water from the tap.

- "It's okay, Al", said quietly Terrence, from where he was standing.

Albus turned to him and the movement made him sway. He caught himself on the edge of the sink. His legs were shaking. His hand went up to his chest and tightened on his wet sweater.

- "Why?" he finally articulate hoarsely. "What have I'..."

He winced and keeled over.

- "Al!" Wendy yelped helplessly. "Al, are you okay? Does it hurt? Is it from yesterday?"

Terrence had jumped to them and grabbed his friend's shoulders to keep him from falling.

- "Al, breathe, okay? It will be fine. I _promise_ you will be fine. We'll clear it up. There's got to be a rational explanation as why he... why..."

The words had difficulty passing his lips.

His fingers clutched convulsively on his sweater, Albus looked up.

- "Why my dad tried to kill me", he finished, panting.

Next to the bathroom door, invisible, Scorpius was leaning against the wall, grimly, Albus' wand in his hand.

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><p><strong><em>To be continued ...<em>**

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><p><strong><em>Next chapter : ALBUS, SCORPIUS, SEVERUS<em>**

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><p><strong><em> And I'm very sorry the update took SO LONG. It won't happen again, since I'm done with the French version of this fic. Good news !<br>_**

**_The French readers _adored_ it, so I hope you will like it as well ! Please, do feel free to correct English mistakes and wrong translations of the HP vocabulary, which IS the biggest challenge in here (I won't start on the lenght of these chapters which are going to be the end of me...)_**


	7. Albus, Scorpius, Severus

The door wasn't shut properly and they had not noticed it. Their voices could be heard rather well from the hallway and Wendy, for once, would have preferred that adults kept their conversation private.

- "... That's ridiculous!"

- "Notify the Ministry ... "

- "... All this time ..."

- "... Let parents have their ways on the school grounds ..."

- "... Ever ..."

- "... Even when those children were petrified!"

- "Harry Potter ... or anyone else ..."

- "... An Unforgivable Curse!"

- "... It's not the same! Albus ..."

- "... Unthinkable!"

- "... Specifically asked us not to make a difference!"

- "... It's a case of force majeure ..."

- "... But exactly what does it ..."

- "... Impossible!"

- "... How could he recover without ..."

- "... Not for us to say ..."

Professor Longbottom, _pleading_. The voice of the director of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall, _severe and worried at the same time_. Professor Wood, _completely lost_. Mrs Curtis, _upset_. Luna Lovegood, _dreamy but concerned_. Nurse Abbot... _definitely on Neville's side_.

Sitting under the arch on the windowsill, Wendy sighed. She pulled her knees under her chin and put her hands over her ears.

_I hate it, I hate it, I hate it ..._

_Why couldn't things remain as they were before?_

_We didn't need adventure, mysterious drama or troubling past..._

_We were doing okay, like this ..._

In front of her, Terrence was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, one foot against the ancient stones, his round glasses back up on his forehead, a sign that he was thinking intensively. The golden spike on his head looked like an antenna more than ever.

_The flower-shaped scar. The nightmare. The purring, the ferret feeling all better, the elves ..._

_A horrible memory, buried and forgotten, in which his father threw at him an Unforgivable Curse..._

_That was a lot to take in._

He had trouble himself to swallow everything, so how could Albus cope with it?

_Albus for who was difficult even the idea of competing with the other houses._

_Albus that most people forgot, busy watching James or listening to Lily._

_Albus who never said a word louder than the other, who asked for nothing and gave everything._

_"Albus Severus Potter, son of Harry Potter."_

Terrence never thought of him that way.

_Al._

_The boy with green eyes that looked into the depths of your soul._

_The quiet bloke who had an extraordinary power and did not even realize it._

_My best friend._

He made his glasses fell back to their place with a flick and sighed seeing Wendy prostrated in front of him. He was opening his mouth to tell her not to listen to the snippets of the argument coming from Mrs Abbot's office, when Neville Longbottom stormed into the hallway.

He was breathing heavily, took a few steps, rubbing his neck angrily, put his hands on his hips then in his pockets, turned on himself biting his lips, his eyes to the ground.

- "Professor?" Wendy called shyly.

He looked up and took in the presence of the two students with some difficulty.

- "Mr. Philips ... Miss Swanson ..."

- "Excuse me, sir", said Terrence, trying to catch the erratic gaze of the man, "Will Al's father ... I mean, will Mr. Potter come to Hogwarts?"

- "What's happening with Al?" Wendy asked pleadingly.

Neville looked away. His fingers were fidgeting with the collar of his white blouse.

- "You should be in class", he said in a feverish tone. "Go back to your rooms, have lunch. It's none of your business. Leave him be."

He cast a glance around him.

- "Where's Albus?"

Terrence shrugged.

- "Some place. _Leave him be"_, he replied in a muffled voice.

Wendy's eyes widened at such insolence, but Professor Longbottom merely let go of a long sigh.

He put his hand on Terrence's shoulder.

- "When he comes back from the gallery, tell him to go to my office. I guess he won't return to the infirmary ..."

He walked down the hallway, his shoulders hunched like an old man, then stopped and turned around.

His sad and gentle eyes met Terrence's fierce gaze.

- "All I want is to protect him, Swanson. Just like you."

Wendy approached the blond teenager when the man was gone.

- "How does he know about the gallery?" she whispered.

Terrence took off his glasses and wiped them on the corner of his shirt that stuck out from under his sweater.

- "I suppose in three and a half years, there's at least one teacher who realized that Al was an actual being, not just his brother's shadow."

- "Or maybe there're cameras somewhere..."

Terrence put a patronizing hand on Wendy's head.

- "There's no camera, Philips. This is a _magical_ school."

He felt just a teensy bit better.

* * *

><p>oOoOoOo<p>

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><p>Albus took away the withered flowers and got rid of the dirty water through the window overlooking the lawn where the first years learnt to fly. He put water in the high white vase and threw in a handful of seeds.<p>

The sun came in waves through the vast windows and the stained glass glints were dancing in sparkling arabesques on the paintings mouldings along the gallery. Draperies in the colors of the four houses barely rippled in the breeze passing through the open window. On the shelf in front of each picture were placed small gifts, messages, photo frames, toys or candies, sometimes a teddy bear, often flowers.

The gallery was very long - more than fifty portraits were lined in it - and very quiet.

People came there on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, at the end of the school year, but the rest of the time it was empty.

In the air hung the scent of soap, of parchment and ink, barley sugar and leather, the very sweet scent of memories.

Albus whispered the incantation with a delicate flick of his wand, then watched the lilies grow up in the vase and open their cream-colored petals like if they were smiling.

He put the vase next to the last picture of the gallery, wiped the empty shelf with the flat of his hand, then stepped back.

He sat in the middle of the thick brown and golden carpet that covered the tiles of the corridor and crossed his legs before him. Chin up, he looked at the portrait in front of him for a long time, before letting out a big sigh.

In the frame, the man dressed in a black collar raised an eyebrow. His eyes scrutinized the boy, attentively.

Albus put his arms around his knees and sighed again.

The pain still twinged in his chest, but more distant, muffled, hidden.

He blew on a black lock of hair that dangled on his eye. On the painting, the man with bony cheeks gave a little nod and threw back his greasy dark hair. He kept looking patiently at the teenager.

- "I'm in trouble, you know", finally said Albus.

His interlocutor's brow bounced.

- "No, it's not my fault. Well ... I don't think it is."

The emerald eyes filled up with tears.

- "What kind of bad could have I done that my dad would want to _kill_ me?"

In the frame, the man's shoulders had stiffened. He thought for a moment, putting his hand mechanically to his thin lips - which made him look really severe - and then cocked his head.

- "I ... I don't know exactly what happened", Albus stammered as if he had understood the unspoken question. "I ... it was just a flash. He had his wand and ..."

He closed his eyes, as if to receive the impact.

- "I don't get it" ... he murmured in a small voice. "He loves me, he would never do that ... right?"

It was a cry - almost a sob.

On the canvas, wrinkles painfully dug around the dark eyes gazing at the boy. All was silent. Dust particles glittered in the sunlight, like falling out of gravity.

Albus finally raised his chin. He wiped his nose with his sleeve.

- "And there's more."

The eyes of the portrait flashed briefly, a little ironic, like a proud answer to the fragile bravery of the voice.

Albus put his hand on the warm spot on his chest. He could feel it even through the layers of his shirt and jumper. The scar was there, throbbing like a living bird.

- "There's a something weird happening to me ... it hurts ... and at the same time ..."

His eyes tried to bring together the so complicated feelings.

- "I don't... I'm not scared, I think. Not of _this_ ..."

His mouth twitched like a child trying to hide his distress.

- "But my dad ... why ..."

The man in the painting nodded. His sharp profile was lost in a thoughts for a moment, then he turned again to the teenager, inquiring.

- "I don't know what Terrence thinks of this strange scar", immediately replied Albus.

The portrait looked up to heaven and the teenager smiled despite himself.

- "Yes, I know. He's three times smarter than me and ..."

Again, the sly bouncing of the eyebrows.

- "Okay, _ten times more_. I'll talk to him, I promise."

Tenderness dressed the sharp features and Albus' green eyes clung to the dark ones.

- "And I'm going to trust in my dad until he tells me ..."

The sun was playing on the canvas, sliding gold threads in the folds of the austere sleeves of the wizard.

The teenager let out another sigh, feeling a bit relieved. He undid the fingers he had tightly interlaced on his knees and put his hands on the carpet, rocking back slightly. He spread his legs and felt his shoulders relax a little.

- "Severus ..."

In the gray painting, the pale man dressed in black waited patiently.

- "Wouldn't it be nice if you were one of my teachers ..."

A burst of silent laughter brightened in the eyes of the portrait. He quickly shook his chin.

- "What? You think I'd be afraid of you?"

Albus chuckled, exhausted by the storm of emotions he had been through since the day before.

- "No way!"

Someone cleared his throat quietly.

- "Sorry to interrupt ... I can sit?"

Scorpius Malfoy was standing there awkwardly, his hands deep in his pockets, his almost white fringe slicked back, looking down.

Albus exchanged a glance with the painting and nodded.

Scorpius sat next to him, cross-legged. He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs and put his hands on his knees, his neck stiff, as he examined the portrait in front of Albus.

- "I know him", he said after awhile, narrowing his dark eyebrows. "I saw him once in my father's old school pictures. But he looked much more spooky."

Albus smiled.

- "He was a director of Hogwarts", he says proudly. "I was named after him."

Scorpius recorded the information without blinking. He looked around, then turned back to the teen with green eyes.

- "D'you come here often?"

Albus nodded silently.

- "Why?"

The pearl gray eyes of Malfoy were a little surprised, behind their usual disdainful look.

Albus took a deep breath before answering.

- "I like it, that's all."

He pointed his chin to the painting in front of them, in which the man was watching them, baffled.

- "I like to talk to him. When I'm not quite sure about something, or when I feel down... well ... I come here and... erm, after, it gets better."

Scorpius looked a little shocked.

- "Why are you just talking to a bloke who died and who won't even answer? While you have Terrence and Wendy!"

It was a reproach, clearly, but Albus was not fazed.

- "They're the same age as us. You and me and them, we never had to make difficult choices. We have not even _live_ yet, we're so young. Here ... you see. There's my Uncle Fred, Tonks and Remus... And the others. I wish I could meet them. I… It's ... the people who died in this battle, they knew what they were doing.

Scorpius flinched.

- "Half of them _are_ our age! It's almost only Hogwarts students, with a few teachers and some Aurors."

He hesitated.

- "Sometimes, you sound awfully older than you are, Al."

Albus smiled again.

- "Sorry."

He paused, then sat up and rubbed the sore spot pulsing under his sweater.

- "You've been here before, right?"

Scorpius blushed. He swallowed and smoothed a strand peeling from his neat hairstyle.

In the painting, the man dressed in black shook his head.

-"You're the one bringing lilies, aren't you?"

Albus nodded, then frowned.

- "My father asked me to, the first time I told him I was going to the gallery."

Scorpius wrinkled his nose, looking thoughtful.

- "Your father knew him too, then."

- "Hum."

They stayed a moment staring at the portrait - who seemed to find it highly uncomfortable and crossed his arms sternly.

Albus chuckled again, as if the attitude really was incongruous, but Scorpius glared at the man.

- "If he was a director, he should be in McGonagall's office, isn't it? he said after a moment. "And why isn't he talking?"

- "None of the portraits is speaking, in the gallery", said thoughtfully Albus. "You're right, though. James said he was not in the director's office."

Scorpius snorted - and the picture shared absolutely the same look.

- "How does _James_ know that? Has he been already called up there?"

Albus sneered.

-" Yep."

Malfoy was silent for a moment, pulling on a thread at the hem of his pants.

- "It's not likely to happen to you, however", he finally said, his voice slightly muffled.

Albus looked at him intently.

- "And neither to you", he finally added.

For a few seconds the whole gallery stood frozen, then they giggled together.

- "That's right", Scorpius said.

Albus turned his head to the picture, dreamily.

- "We behave a lot better than our fathers did, don't you think?"

The portrait nodded vigorously. There was almost a relieved drop of sweat on his pale forehead.

Outside, the sun was beginning to decline and the light tarnished. The breeze was a little fresher.

Scorpius put his elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his palm.

- "Al?"

- "Hmm?"

The blond boy gathered all his courage. He bit his lips, then tied his gray eyes with the waiting emerald eyes.

- "Your father ... surely... if he really ... he regrets it."

Albus did not move. He did not turn his head. He swallowed hard, then gently asked:

- "What's on _your_ father's arm, Scorpius?"

Malfoy winced.

In the frame, the man in black was contemplating the two teenagers with infinite sadness.

- "It's ... erm... it's called the _Dark Mark_. The ... Voldemort's followers… They had it on their arm."

He pursed his lips and looked up with fierce eyes.

- "But my father, he –"

His voice broke when meeting very soft green eyes in front of him.

- "He didn't want to do it anymore, Al… He decided he wouldn't do this.. And ..."

The words choked.

- "My father… he regrets. Sometimes when he looks at his arm, I think he wants to cut it. He says nothing, but ..."

Albus reached out, gently, as if he did not want to scare him, as if he felt Malfoy was ready to flee. His fingers rested on the shoulder of the shuddering blond boy.

- "I understand ..." he whispered.

It was not true. How could it be true, since they had experienced nothing like war, while they were so different, so far from what happened.

But something very kind, very pure, infinitely big and of imperceptible wisdom, touched Scorpius' shoulder of Scorpius like a wing.

The scent of lilies filled the gallery as the sun set down in gold and everything was silent.

In the frame, something was shining in the corner of the eye of the man with hollow cheeks and dark hair.

Scorpius let out a long sigh and Albus removed his hand slowly.

- "Thank you", he said simply.

It was Malfoy's turn to stifle a fragile little chuckle.

- "You're so weird", he began. "You ..."

Albus suddenly groaned and collapsed to the side, to the horror of the other boy.

- "Al! Hey! Wait, what... you ..."

Scorpius did not know what to do, feverishly kneeling next to his classmate.

Suddenly, it was very dark and very cold and Albus' green eyes seemed to be the only bright thing.

Malfoy took his head in his hands, bit his lip, reached out, made a movement as if to go getting help.

Albus' hand grabbed his wrist.

His eyes were pleading, terrified. Suffering wrang his face and his whole body writhed in pain so strong that he could not moan, his teeth gritted.

Scorpius felt a cold sweat blobbed down in between his shoulder blades. He looked around in distraught. The frames were all empty - only black canvas were still hanging on the walls.

There was no one else but him.

He wanted to flee, but he was nailed to the floor.

He wanted to call for help but his dry throat did not produce a sound.

_Don't die, Al._

_Please don't die._

Albus stiffened. A red streak trickled down his chin.

A rasped cry of pain escaped through his discolored lips and Scorpius closed his eyes as if that would prevent him from hearing.

Then he opened his eyes as he felt something touching his cheek.

_Everything was so dark._

It looked like a pillow filled with black feathers had exploded in the gallery.

Albus' body arched violently and Malfoy half fell on him, the fingers of the boy grinding his wrist. The thunder blazed above the castle and it enveloped everything in blasting beauty.

Then all went quiet again. The clouds dispersed, the light came back, peaceful and gentle, extending its rays on the lawn.

The students, who were squatting under schoolbags and books, got up, surprised not to feel the rain come. The teachers rekindled the candles extinguished on their desks.

In the highest room of the Gryffindor tower, Terrence put his book aside and went to the window to glance at the lake on which the waves fell back slowly, hemmed with silvery foam.

Wendy crouched down and picked up the remains of the earthen pot she had dropped. Professor Longbottom, staring at the transparent roof of the greenhouse, was not listening to her apologies. He looked deeply troubled.

James let out a whistle, trying to compose himself. He was quite happy he had not been on his broom when the thunder had stroked. Sandeszki had fallen heavily, as for him.

Lily shrugged and leaned down to pick up her spoon. She resumed to eating her pumpkin compote while commenting on the last _Witch Weekly_ with Alison Corner in the Great Hall.

It was the evening of an ordinary day.

_Everything was perfectly normal._

Slowly, the gallery was looming out of the darkness and the characters in the frames were coming back, except for the man with the pale skin.

- "Sorry ... sorry, I keeled over. I hope I didn't hurt y..." Scorpius muttered, sitting up, anxious at the idea he could have worsened Albus' condition.

He froze. Blood began to beat in his ears, deafening, as if he was going to faint.

- "Al?"

His husky voice seemed so strange in the silence.

He reached out, holding his breath.

His mind was working at full speed, so fast he could feel his thoughts rattled in his skull.

- "Al?... is _that_ you?"

His fingers were trembling.

He hesitated.

Then two large green eyes split up by a stroke of gold opened and gazed at him.

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><p><strong><em>To be continued<em>**

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><p><strong><em>Next chapter : DIFFICULT CHOICES<em>**


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